Journey of the Dead
by Heitomos
Summary: The infection is a strange thing. Changing decent humans beings into vicious killing machines with no self preservation. But within the mindless horde, there are those who were given a second chance.  A slight mirror to the four survivors concept.
1. The First

Note: I do not own Left 4 Dead. Valve does. They rock.

PS: The hunters in this story will have no eyes like they do in the game. If you check the L4Dwiki there's a part that points out this fact.

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night, and through the windows of an apartment complex twenty stories high in downtown Philadelphia, one could see lights flickering where none others shone.

Sitting at his computer desk in his apartment twenty stories high, Matthew Destin was watching amateur performance tapes made by locals of their Parkour routines. He was doing a little research, looking up what moves some people used and preferred when met with different obstacles. There was a fundraiser, a Parkour event near a local park on the following evening and he wanted to see if he could pick up a few tips before showing his stuff and earning donations.

After a few hours Matthew stretched his arms from in his seat, got up, and left his computer alone. He looked about his one bedroom apartment that he was managing to keep afloat on his own and sighed. Life was tough, but Matt struggled and in the end, he felt he was winning. Giving a small smile he went to his room and got out the clothes he had for the Parkour event. It was a special event set up by the city for a massive fundraiser, one that had been gaining lots of donations so far. The whole was a form of race about the city, earning money based on run times. The money was going to children all over the world, and he was happy about that. A locally run clothing company had donated clothes for the race as well, a hoodie and matching sweat pants of the same color. His set was a dark green color that he chose, one that he picked out before most of the less common colors were taken, forcing many of the latecomers into dark blue sets.

He knew from experience that the loose garments would undoubtedly get in the way, but that's what tape was for.

He took a quick look at his clock and saw that it was a few minutes past one in the morning, and time for bed. He quickly disrobed down to his boxers and hopped into bed, and fell quickly into a deep sleep.

* * *

The following evening, Matt found himself in the tent to the main event, stretching his muscles to their fullest while hundreds of other traceurs and traceuses did the same, almost all of them donning the same brand of hoodie, but in varying colors. Some didn't bother with the hoodies, for reasons unknown. One thing that was currently concerning him was how a few of the people around him seemed sick. He figured it must've been that Green Flu that CEDA had been going on about on TV. He just chalked it off as another small flu, something to sell a lot of drugs and get the pharmaceutical companies billions.

He recoiled in minor fright when one of the sick people accidentally sneezed at him.

"Ah, gross, man!" He yelled out as he wiped his face of the spit.

"Ugh, sorry dude. I know I shouldn't be out here, but I wanna do it for the kids, you know?"

"Yeah, I get ya, but get a mask or something." He said, waiving off the random sick man with a chuckle.

'Great, just what I need, some new sickness to bog me down at work. Oh well, I'll be fine. Colds never did bother me much,' he thought as he moved to the front of the tent. By the entrance, he spotted a woman who was sitting down, head in their hands, and looking quite ill. He put his sleeve to his mouth and crouched down in front of her before speaking.

"Hey there, you alright?" He asked in a muffled voice.

"What? Oh yeah… I'm fine, it's just, I think I got this damn flu going around." She replied, before couching heavily into her fist.

"That doesn't sound good. You probably… really should head home, you look really pale. Better get in bed before you keel over."

The girl laughed, and the coughed again, "Yeah, you're probably right." She responded before sighing, "I'm sure I'll have another chance to do something like this anyway."

"Thatta girl."

Matt and the girl shared a smile before he left her to collect herself. He was set up for the fourth round, which was starting in ten minutes, and decided to get a drink from the water booth. He grabbed a drink and walked to the starting line, waiting for his turn to shine. He almost choked on his water when he heard a blood curdling scream come from behind him.

He turned quickly on his heels to see what all the commotion about, all the while couching violently from the tiny bit of water irritating his lungs. His eyes were as wide as can be at the sight before him.

The girl he was talking too earlier was running full tilt at a nearby civilian, and upon catching the helpless man, began to bite into his flesh. More screams rang out from the crowd, his attention turning a brief moment to see someone, a man this time, doing the same thing to a now long dead corpse.

He began to panic, and his panic only escalated as he saw the offenders face, recognizing him as the man who'd sneezed on him earlier. Caught up in the panic, it took him a few moments to see a dozen more people running down the street as fast as they could, wearing the same soulless, manic expressions. And what disturbed him the most was that some of them looked bloody in places, and one was even missing half of her face.

He turned and ran, as did most of the contestants and civilians. Those who were unlucky enough to be a target of the deadly looking individuals didn't survive the initial rush.

As he ran, cries of zombies and the apocalypse rang over the screams, but all Matt could do was run, jump, climb, and run some more. Having trained in Parkour for several years, scaling building and jumping fences and walls had become second nature to him, and through sheer instinct he continued to move.

He didn't know how long he ran. He saw the sun drop and rise, and yet he never stopped. Just tried to escape. No food or water or sleep, and yet he was still able to keep going. He didn't know what drove him, where his energy came from, where his fatigue had went. So much was he distracted that he didn't notice the zombies running amuck down below him, nor the ones catching his scent and chasing him, and definitely not noticing when they stopped. It was around this time his skin had become terribly grey and pale.

The last thing he remembered was being atop a building somewhere, his mind blacking out, and his body moving on.

* * *

**Two and a Half Weeks Later**

He could smell everything around him, hear everything around him, and feel everything around him. The cars burning, the buildings breaking, and the moaning of countless zombies in the streets. But what he could not do was see.

"My eyes! My eyes!" He scrambled with clawed hands to his face, reaching for eyes that had long since melted away, "What happened to my eyes!?"

The next thing he noticed was his hands. Dirty, calloused, and equipped with inch-long, jagged nails. And he could smell blood upon them. Whose blood, he didn't know, but it was blood all the same. He did what he could to suppress his panic and just sat down on the roof he stood on, and then he thought.

'I have no idea where I am… I'm blind, but I still know where everything around me is for what seems like a mile. I have no idea what happened. I can't remember anything. I know words, names of things, but…'

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and began to examine his body. He wore a hoodie, dirty and a little ragged, but being blind, he couldn't tell that the color was dark green. Around his body was duct tape, binding down his clothes in strategic locations, and still holding on strong. In his pocket, he felt a square bulge. He reached inside and pulled out a still instant leather wallet.

"Is this my wallet? Must be…" He said to no one in particular as he took it out and sifted through it.

He pulled out a card, and ran a finger over it. To his amazement, he could feel everything about it. From the bumps of numbers, to even the changes in pigment within the plastic. He may be blind, but his other senses have become beyond super human, and now, he was feeling a little more frightened.

Going through the various cards, he tossed credit and debit cards aside, membership cards to video stores, and finally stopped on his driver's license. He ran his finger over the card, feeling where the ink caused different vibrations, and read off the words.

"Matthew Destin… age twenty-three… eye color brown… Hah, not that that matters anymore. Wait… 287 Fairview Crescent, apartment 208… My address maybe? Seems the most logical…"

He pocketed the card and his wallet and stood up, trying to gain his bearings, trying to figure out what in the world was going on and why he didn't remember anything about his life. He stood near the edge of the building, and peered over, listening and smelling. There were zombies, he could tell, all over the streets. Most just shuffling around, others were sitting or lying down, and others vomiting, much to his disgust. He was unnerved by how they smelled, because they smelled just like him.

"Am I one of them?" He asked aloud, pondering the circumstances.

His head snapped to the left as he heard something strange, different from the zombies. It still smelled the same as the rest, but it sounded much different, and was moving, sneaking, and seemingly on the prowl. He ran to the left side of the building, his left anyway, and leaned over the edge to get a better sense of what was making that noise.

He fell back onto his bottom as he heard a ferocious screech; like a predator attacking, and then he felt the figure he was sniffing for leap from one building and land right next to him. He was stunned by the leap, spanning a distance of over twenty-five feet, and landing without a problem. He looked towards the figure, out of habit more than need for sight, and took it in. He could tell it wore the same style of clothing as he did, and may honestly have been one of the other traceurs at the meeting.

'Traceurs? That's a Parkour practionner… I think I remember something about that…'

His thoughts were interrupted by the traceur. Clearly a zombie, though much more active, it walked upright towards the opposite edge of the building, and then looked and sniffed around for something. It quickly crouched again before screeching another time as it leapt once more to a nearby building. He had also noticed that it didn't have eyes anymore.

"Why is that one so different...?" He spoke as he reached for his face, feeling at where his eyes had melted away, "It was just like me…"

His head turned to his legs, and he used his hands to feel at them. The tape was still holding strong, but one thing he noticed was that his leg muscles were amazingly rock hard, maybe harder. He found his feet to be bare as well, shoes having long been lost, pads of his feet calloused heavily. He stood up and tested them, making small jumps into the air, then higher and higher. Soon, he gave one final, massive leap twenty-five feet into the air, and came down without a twinge of pain.

He then collapsed to his knees, turns to his clawed hands, and started sobbing, "By the gods… what have I become…?"

He continued to sob, though no tears ran down his face. Instead, he just clenched his fists tightly, and pounded on the roof over and over again.

His thoughts and depression were suddenly interrupted by something far off in the distance. It was a very small noise, but he could still hear it. The faint sound of crying.

'What in the world…? Is someone still alive in all of this?' He thought to himself.

"I might see someone… find out what the hell has been happening!" This time he spoke aloud, and dashed.

The need for information, and the excitement of seeing a living creature that could actually respond to his voice, drove him, gave him the will to move. He ran to the ledge, and using his newfound strength, soared from building to building at speeds unknown. He kept suppressing a feral growl that attempted to escape his mouth with every jump, using all of his will to beat it down and to keep thinking he was still mostly human.

His journey took him quickly to an alleyway a mile from where he was once was. He walked carefully down the dark path and the crying only intensified, and the ear piercing wail sounded so sad. He could tell that whoever it was was incredibly young, and this was confirmed when he caught sense of her.

A small child, no more than six years old, maybe even younger, short and thin, was crying on the ground, with her face in her hands. She was incredibly pale, almost white, and was wearing a dirty and tattered blue dress, though he himself could not tell the color. What stunned him the most were her five inch long claws at the ends of her fingers. He took a step back upon noticing this; thankful his senses essentially give him colorblind sight since he had lost his eyes.

"Another one of them…"

The girl quickly turned to the voice, tears in her eyes. Upon noticing him, the little Witch screeched aloud.

* * *

A/N: This was an idea that was just nagging at the back of my head for a while, and actually impeded me from writing more of my Samus/Peach (not yuri) fic. I'll tell you guys more about the idea after the character are introduced. Until next time!


	2. The Second

"Suzie! It's time for breakfast!"

"Coming, mommy!"

Little Suzie tore her attention away from her coloring book and ran out of her room and down the stairs at the heed of her mother's call. Breakfast was always the best meal of the day and she knew that a big bowl of Fruit Loops awaited her.

She ran into the kitchen, her foot long black hair waving behind her, to greet her mother with a hug, "Morning, mommy!"

"Good morning, sweety. Go sit at the table and I'll get you your cereal."

"Yay!" Suzie said, before pulling out a chair and hopping up onto it. Her mother, a tall woman with the same black hair as her daughter, donning modest beige pants and a red t-shirt, smiled brightly.

Suzie began to munch away at her cereal after it was placed in front of her, taking big bites as to finish faster. Today was a school day, and she didn't want to be late after all. After she finished, her mother told her to go upstairs to dress herself.

She poked through her closet and chose a little blue dress to wear. After getting dressed, she put on her backpack and ran back downstairs to hug her mother again.

"Be safe sweety, just go down the street and wait for the bus, alright? Use your cell phone to call me if something happens."

"I will, mommy!"

After being picked up and kissing her mother on cheek, she waved goodbye one last time and left the apartment. She lived in an apartment at ground level near downtown Philadelphia, two blocks from the school bus stop. She started skipping down the street, humming the tune to 'I Am a Gummy Bear' loud enough for a few passer-bys to hear.

* * *

Later in the evening, the school bus dropped her off at the usual spot, and she gave the driver a big wave before making her way back home. On her way back, by an alleyway, she saw a man in a business suit sitting down and clutching his stomach. Few people paid him mind, and she was one of those few people. She walked up to him and saw that he was very pale and sickly looking.

"Are you okay, mister?"

The man erupted in a series of coughs, and she stumbled back when she felt something wet hit her face. She reached up to clean it off, and on her hands, she saw that it was blood.

"Ewwww!" She started to flail her hand around, trying to get the blood off.

She didn't notice when the business man looked up, eyes white and manic, and focused on her. With a bestial snarl, he reached out to try to grab her, but she noticed and stepped back just in time before letting out a shrill scream of fright. Several people turned to see what was going on, and lucky for Suzie, a woman come forward and grabbed the snarling man who was ready to jump at her.

The man's attention was instantly switched to the woman, and he began clawing and biting at her flesh. Suzie screamed again at the sight of this and took off down the alleyway as fast as her little legs would take her. She found a dumpster near the back end of the alleyway and hid behind it. She curled up into a ball as she heard the screams of the people, heard the crashing of cars and twisting metal, and eventually hearing the sounds of gunfire.

After a half an hour of shaking and sobbing, she pulled out her cell phone and selected her mother on the speed dial. She shakily brought the phone to her ear and listened to the ringing. The ringing never stopped.

"Pick up mommy… pick up… please…"

She began to cry, tears running down her face. She rocked, still curled up in a ball, and listened to the ringing. Every time she got the answering machine, she just called again, over and over. Hours passed, her cell phone had long since died, but she kept on pressing the call button anyway, and kept on crying.

"M-mommy! Where are you…?"

* * *

**Two and a Half Weeks Later**

For the past two and a half weeks, she had done almost nothing but cry. Her tears had stopped flowing long ago, and only the sound and racking sobs remained. She cried for her mother, the only thing she still remembered, and she cried for the pain she felt as her body contorted and reformed. Her pain had also caused her to grip and tear at her clothing as a way to try to make the hurt go away. She had barely noticed it through her sorrow and anguish, but her body had thinned considerably. Her black hair turned pure white, with her skin taking a similar shade. The thing that stood out the most, however, were her fingers, which had morphed and elongated into five-inch long, razor sharp claws.

Through her crying, she had noticed the zombies shuffling about, occasionally some walking down her alley. She always just moved out of the way and hid, crying all the time. Around the second week, she noticed some smarter ones, dressed in hoodies, and others grotesquely obese, gurgling about. She kept herself well hidden, and they never bothered her, in fact, some even avoided her.

Her crying was suddenly disturbed by a noise, and instantly her sobs stopped. She turned to see what it was, and she saw one of the hooded ones, wearing dark green this time. This one was unlike the others; it was coming right towards her. She feared for her life, and screamed.

Her scream came out as a horrid screech, but she was too scared to care much. She retreated on the ground until her back hit the dumpster she had taken to liking, and she started waving her clawed hand out.

"Stay back! I'll… I'll... scratch you!"

The hooded man seemed shocked for a moment, even though he had no eyes, she could tell by how his mouth opened, "You… you can talk too?"

She froze at this, and visibly calmed down, "Umm… y-yes?"

Matt smiled, kneeled down, and extended his hand, "You don't know how good it is to hear another person's voice. My name is Matt, apparently. Don't be scared… I'm not like the rest of them."

The girl still looked a little frightened, but was mollified by his kind voice. She looked to him again and stood up, "H-hi… I'm… I'm… I don't remember my name anymore."

"I didn't either… seems we're in the same boat, you and I. How old are you, little girl?"

"S-six… I think…" She looked down and kicked the ground, not noticing her bare feet, old shoes torn to shreds and discarded in a corner.

"Six huh? I thought so… I haven't seen another child since I woke up half an hour ago. I wonder why you're the only zombie kid I've seen...?"

"Zombie?"

"It's what… what a lot of people have become. Violent and mindless. We're… at least I think you are too, we're infected, just like them. But, we're special, you and I. We can still think…Wow this is hard, never had to do anything like this before."

He rubbed his head and raised his head as he heard the girl giggle lightly. He smiled back at her, "Look… no one is left in this city, as far as I know. You and I may be the only two in the city who can still think, and I have no idea if any normal people have survived this. So… want to come with me, instead of staying here to cry? We might be able to find other people if we stick together."

She seemed to think about it for a bit, and then nodded. She took a single step towards Matt and yelped as she stepped on something sharp.

"Ow! Hey, what happened to my shoes?" She whined as she looked to her bare feet.

"Not sure, probably the same thing that happened to mine." He replied, before showing off a bare foot and wiggling his toes.

She giggled at this, "Well… you might'a walked here, but my feet hurt."

"That is a problem… Here." He turned around and kneeled, looking like he wanted her to hop onto his back, "hop on, we'll try to find a clothing store or something, we could both use it."

She smiled and climbed onto his back, but instead of lying on his back with her arms around his neck, she sat atop his shoulder, using only one hand to hold the other side of his neck. He looked to her curiously as he stood, "Why up there?"

"I dunno, I just wanted to be high up."

Matt chuckled at her antics, finding it very comforting to be doing something normal instead of leaping rooftops and finding out that he was a zombie. He began to walk out to the street, the other zombies ignoring him, and started searching for a clothing store.

"You remind me of a parrot, sitting up there and saying stuff." He commented, even though she'd only spoken a sentence.

"A parrot? Why's that?"

"Well, you might be too young, but old time-y pirate captains used to have parrots on their shoulders, for some reason or another. They used to speak to their captains and had a jolly good time."

The little witch on his shoulder smiled, "Squawk squawk!"

Matt laughed at her playfulness, and she too joined with her own giggling. They both seemed to be using each other's presence as a means to forget the chaos around them, even when the hunter occasionally had to dodge a wandering zombie. So distracted were they that they didn't even hear the hollow crying coming from a nearby shop until they'd arrived just outside of it.

"Whoa… what's that sound? Is someone alive?" Said Matt, trying to pick out just what was inside the store.

"I dunno… but she sounds really sad. We should go help her!"

"Maybe… but we should be careful, hold on tight, Parrot."

"Hey! Why're calling me that?" She said as she swatted at him with her palm before laughing a little.

"Hey, I have nothing else to call you, unless you have ID on you or remember your name."

"Hmm… no, I don't. Humph, fine, you can call me Parrot, for now."

Matt laughed a bit at her, "Alright, Parrot it is. Now come on, and keep quiet."

Parrot nodded and tightened her grip on his neck, though wary not to cut him with her claws. Together, they walked into the store, a simple convenience store by the looks of it, ever approaching the hollow wail. Matt could now begin to visualize the one crying from the smells and vibrations in the air, and he gasped lightly.

"The one crying… she's like you, claws and all, but bigger. A full grown woman."

"Really? You can tell that? Oooh! We should go say hi!" She said excitedly, bouncing on his shoulder.

"Alright, but still. Be careful just in case."

Parrot nodded, even though she had a big smile on her face as they approached. They rounded a corner and there she was, a full-grown woman, white hair, claws twice as long as Parrot's, and crying her eyes out on the floor. They approached her slowly, and at about a foot away from her, Matt kneeled down.

"Um… hello? Can you hear me?"

The witch gave no response, and instead just kept on crying. Matt turned to Parrot and shrugged. She shrugged back, and without a second thought, she reached out to touch the crying woman.

"Hel---"

She was cut off by the witch letting out a sudden shriek and turning towards them, a look of deadly rage swimming in her glowing red eyes, something Parrot lacked. The little witch scream in fight and Matt held his hands over his sensitive ears and began to run.

The witch chasing them was fast, and quickly gaining on the two of them, claws bared and ready to strike them down. Matt quickly checked around him, finding nothing but a nearby car fire to be of any use as a weapon, so he knew they needed to run. While he realized he couldn't outrun the raging zombie, he could out jump her, hopefully. He crouched down, and just barely before the offender could rend him asunder, leapt high into the air and caught a nearby drainpipe that was attached to a building on the other side of the street. He glanced down and saw his pursuer heading towards the same pipe, probably with the intent to climb it.

Thinking fast, he too, climbed the pipe, heading towards a nearby windowsill to use as a foothold. When he got close enough, he swung his body and jumped from the pipe to the window, clutching the edge and managing to hang on. Parrot, however, lost her grip and balance and began to fall.

"Matt!" She screamed as she began to fall, holding up her hand towards him.

Matt quickly let go with one of his hands and reached out, barely grabbing onto her hand and cutting himself on her claws, "Argh! I gotcha… don't worry!"

He pulled her up and set her back on his shoulder, at which point she held her arms around his neck for dear life. The witch below had finally reached the pipe and began to climb, shrieking in a high pitched wail as it made its way to kill them both.

Matt felt the assailants approach and crouched once more, "Hold on tight!"

Parrot held on even tighter than before as her hunter friend leapt into the air just barely high enough to grab onto the ledge of the roof. He pulled them both up and the little witch rolled off of his shoulder before lying upon her back, breathing heavily. Matt quickly felt for the pipe and realized that their attacker was already halfway up. He clenched his fist as he thought of what to do next, and hissed as he felt the pain from the cut intensify.

He looked to his hand, then to Parrot, then back to the pipe, then back to the little witch again.

"Parrot! I need you to try and cut this pipe with your claws!"

"W-what? But the lady and… and…" She sat up and looked nervously from left to right, "alright!"

She quickly got up and ran over, shaking a little from fear, and saw that the scary woman was nearing the top. She quickly did as she was told, so as to sooner head back to safety, and sliced at the pipe. Her claws sliced through it effortlessly and under the weight of the climbing witch, it started to fall back, taking the screaming woman with it.

Luckily for the two of them, the witch crashed hard into the burning car below, caught fire, and burned to death.

Both of them finally sat down on the roof, Matt panting heavily and Parrot shaking a little from fright, small sobs escaping her throat. They stayed seated for several minutes before a strange sound interrupted the both of them.

It was a strange coughing sound, as if from someone who had smoked far too much in their lives. They turned their heads, noticed what it really was, and Matt went back on the defensive, standing in front of Parrot to protect her from the new, approaching zombie.

* * *

A/N: Well, here's chapter two in record time for me. More to come as time goes on. See you all next time!


	3. The Third

Cancer. After all the years he spent thinking he would die as a happy old man, he only had two years to live thanks to oral cancer. Only thirty years old and already knowing when he was going to die. He was lying in his bed, left arm behind his head, contemplating the doctor's findings, wondering whether or not he should chance chemotherapy, and all the while staring at the culprit of his disease.

Between his finger and thumb he had a cigarette, holding it between his head and the ceiling, observing the seemingly harmlessly source of stress relief. Smoking these things for twelve years, since he was old enough to buy them legally by himself, laced his tongue and throat with cancerous cells, and not the benign kind.

He sighed heavily and tossed the cigarette to the far corner of his pricy bedroom before sitting up, and succumbing to a fit of harsh coughing. He'd been watching it on the news lately, CEDA reporting about a Green Flu outbreak or some such thing, but what was a little flu compared to cancer? He'd caught it a couple of days ago, but didn't care at all about it. After his coughing fit ended, he rubbed his throat, feeling the occasional lump that shouldn't be there. He decided it was about time to get out of bed and check the news to see if they'd come up with a vaccine or not, just to see if there was some good news for once.

He went into his living room, sat upon the couch, and flicked on the television with his remote control. He did not enjoy what was on the news.

A reporter, an African American woman in pink Depeche Mode t-shirt, was speaking into a microphone in front of a shaking camera. He could barely make out some things in the background, but he could definitely hear some screams.

"This is Rochelle Aytes of the Eyewitness 10 News. Reports indicate that the Green Flu is far worse than anticipated." Her breath was ragged as she and the cameraman appeared to be running from the chaos in the background, "As you can see behind me, some of the infected individuals have lost their minds and started attacking random civilians. They bite and scratch to the point of killing, and those that are dead or on the brink of death have been getting back up. You must all remain alert, barricade yourselves indoors or get the hell out of infected zones! So far, it seems that it's located solely in Pennsylvania, the two main epicentres of the disease being Philadelphia and Erie. Get out or fortify, I repeat, get out of the state or fortify yourselves as soon as possible!"

He left the television on, but paid it no more attention. He had to run or fortify; he knew this. Then he thought of how he had contracted the same flu as them, and wondering if he too would lose his mind. Thinking it for the best, he decided to hole up in his house, specifically his bathroom. He filled it with food and clean water, even going as far as cleaning his bathtub and filling that with excess fresh water. He then began to barricade the door, nailing broken pieces of chair and a table without its legs. Satisfied with what he had done, he checked over what he had again, just to be sure.

A hot plate with plenty of fuel, a hooked hammer, a butcher knife for defense, plenty of food and water, and his lighter.

"There… all done," he said in a scratchy voice before sitting down, "now if I turn into one of them, I won't hurt anyone. If I don't… I'll be safe, and someone will find me. Hopefully."

He rooted through his supplies, looking for something to eat to pass the time, when he saw his carton of cigarettes.

"Well… I'm probably going to die anyway."

He sat down on his toilet, placed a cigarette in his mouth, lit it, and took a long drag.

"Damn that's good."

He continued smoking on into the night, his bathroom fan removing most the smoke. He started to hear cars crashing and guns being fired, and it was to this noise that he fell asleep, allowing the disease to take him in his slumber.

* * *

**Two and a Half Weeks Later**

He awoke groggily, shaking his head from side to side. He didn't feel the jiggling of the extra flesh attached to his face. His mouth was dry, and he could feel a severe need to cough. He got up and grabbed a jug of water nearby, caring more about the water than the look of his hands. His tongue felt like it wanted to burst from his mouth, and had to restrain it as he took a long drink.

It wasn't until he set the jug aside that he noticed that his hands were pale, ragged, and thick skinned. He stood to look down at the rest of himself. His red over shirt and white under shirt were both stained and dirty while his jeans and sneakers looked to be in good condition. He wondered why he was wearing shoes in the bathroom, and through his ponderings came to realize just how little he knew, or rather, remembered.

He looked around to try to get some bearings of what was going on, of whom he was, of where he was. The bathroom door was boarded up, but long scratch marks covered the wood and nearby walls, as if something was desperately trying to get out. He turned completely around, and saw a hotplate by the sink. Inside the sink was a butcher's knife right next to a lighter and a lot of ashes and cigarette butts. His gaze trailed upwards towards the mirror, and upon seeing his own reflection, he gagged and covered his mouth.

His face was covered with several horrible, postulating tumor sacs hanging from the side of his head. They were squishy, nerveless, and utterly disgusting and horrifying. His mouth dropped, and he lost control of his tongue, allowing it to fall out, hanging out at least two feet, and it only served to frighten him more. He backed up against the door opposite to the mirror, and could only watch his disgusting reflection.

He didn't know how long he spent just staring, but he did know how long it took him to get the gruesome idea that had come to mind. One second. He didn't care that it may kill him, he didn't care that he'd be in unimaginable pain, he only cared about getting rid of the horrid tumors. He turned on the hot plate, the sound of leaking gas terribly loud in the quiet bathroom. He grabbed his lighter, lit the portable stove, and turned it to its hottest setting. The smoker searched the room for some kind of cloth, and found a bed sheet in the corner, most likely one he used while trapped in here. Using the butcher knife, he cut it up into long rags, like bandages and set them on the toilet by the sink.

He breathed heavily, giving out hacking coughs, and placed the blade of the knife on the fire. He took the time waiting for the knife to turn red hot to examine his tongue more closely, as that was something he was thinking to keep. It was long, unbelievably long. He could feel it pooling near the bottom of his abdomen, around where he intestines should have been.

'Maybe my guts turned into this?' He thought to himself.

He took a deep, calming breath, and ended up just coughing again. To his side he noticed a half-empty carton of cigarettes. 'I remember… I love these things.' He thought, a few memories returning to him. He grabbed one of the cancer sticks and lit it on the hotplate, still cooking the knife, and took a long puff. Instantly, the tickle in his throat vanished, and he began much more relaxed, even a little euphoric as he inhaled the nicotine.

After inhaling half of his delightful smoke, he saw that the knife had become red hot, and was threatening to melt the hard-plastic handle. He gulped hard, took in as much of the cigarette as he could in one breath, and tossed it into the sink. Taking the knife in hand, he shakily raised it up, brought it to the bottom of his tumors, and began his sickening procedure.

For the next half hour, all that could be heard from the bathroom were his echoing screams and grunts of pain.

* * *

The grown of wood giving way sounded off as he unhooked the boards barricading the door with his hooked hammer. After he was done, he stepped out of the bathroom, bloody butcher knife in hand, smokes in his pocket next to his lighter, and his head covered in blood soaked rags. They covered most of his face, leaving only his mouth and one eye uncovered. He looked bald thanks to the rags covering his head, but he couldn't tie them on any other way. He was in pain, but some force of his new biology helped dull his pain receptors, and his better mood brought about by looking vaguely normal helped ease it away.

He noticed his apartment was in a mess, as if someone had been through it already looking for something. No lights were on, and the place smelled of rotten food, so he assumed that the power had been out for a while. His cough returned to him suddenly, and he groaned, reaching for another cigarette. He had it in his mouth and was about to light it when he heard an ear piercing shriek resonate from outside, staling him, causing him to jump and drop his lighter.

Bending over, he picked up the dropped lighter and then quickly ran to the window. Outside he saw people lurching about, looking much like the crazed maniacs on the news, though looking far more calm and subdued. The shrieking continued, and he finally caught sight of it; a crazed, pale woman with giant claws was chasing a man wearing a green hoodie and pants. He noticed that there was a smaller version of the crazed woman sitting on the guy's shoulder, clutching him for safety.

He took a step back in shock when he saw the green dressed man had crouched, then leapt twenty feet into the air, and grabbed on to a drainpipe attached to his building. The pale little girl fell off of the jumper's shoulder, calling out his name, which apparently was Matt. He watched the event unfold right up until the crazed woman fell into the fire at the order of the guy named Matt. The now tumor-less man ran out of his apartment and towards where he knew the stairs to the roof were, one of the few things he remembered. He wanted desperately to find out what exactly was going on in the world and why he woke up with that disgusting thing attached to his face.

He opened to the door to the roof and looked around. It took him only a moment to see the Matt person and the little girl by the edge of the roof. While wondering how to approach them, a cough erupted from his throat that threatened to knock out his cigarette, one that also alerted the other two to his presence.

"Damn it, another one…" Matt said as he stepped defensively in front of the cowering little girl.

He tried to speak to them in some fashion, but only coughing and gurgling escaped his throat. Clapping a hand over part of his mouth, he rooted around for his lighter, all the while Matt was approaching menacingly. Finally finding his lighter, he lit the cigarette and took a long puff, the action causing the hunter approaching to stop. After taking a long drag to clear his throat, he tried to speak again.

"Testing, testing… There we go."

"You can talk? Oh, thank the gods, that's a relief. I didn't think we'd find more like us."

"Yeah, see, that's actually something I was curious about. Look… uhh… she said your name was Matt, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Matt, Matt Destin. She's Parrot." He said, pointing to the little witch girl hiding behind his leg.

"Parrot? What kind of name is that?"

"Do you remember your own name?"

The smoker thought for a moment, and then realised that he didn't remember much of anything about his life, name included, "Uhh… no, actually. How'd you know?"

"I didn't, but I had some ID on me. She didn't remember hers either, so I just gave her a nickname. You have anything on you?"

The newcomer patted his pockets, and only found his carton of cigarettes and lighter, "No… I don't think so. Might be in my apartment though."

"Alright, that sounds good, I can go help. Some shelter would be good to have."

"Me too! I'll help!" Cheered Parrot, happy to have another friendly face about. She opened her arms and Matt picked her up, placing her on his shoulder once more.

"You like it up there, huh?" Inquired the newcomer.

"Mhm! I do, raggy man!"

"Don't pick on him now, Parrot. Whatever those are covering looks like it hurt." Matt said, mildly scolding her.

"Oh yeah, they did. As a side note, don't go into my bathroom, it's not pretty."

The other two nodded, and followed him down the stairs towards his apartment, and began to search it once they got inside. After fifteen minutes, their combined efforts turned up very little, even the clothes had been taken.

"Seems like they took my wallet, and nothing I found points to a name. They took most everything capable of being carried easily."

"Yeah, it seems like survivors thought it to be a good time to be looting." Replied Matt.

"Mm… well, while we're here, how about you explain to me what's been going on? You seem to know more than I do."

"Right well… this is about all I know. A while ago, the Green Flu got out, and eventually it started turning people into zombies. I got infected too at some point, and then I woke up like this. No eyes, super other senses, and I can leap tall buildings in a single bound. There was another like me, but a mindless zombie like the rest. Seemed to be on the hunt. By the looks of things, me, you, and Parrot are some of the lucky, or unlucky, few that can still think for ourselves. The other zombies don't even seem to care about us, except the ones that cry, but that's because we touched her."

The other nodded in understanding, "So… we're kinda like half-zombies huh? Damn… never thought this would ever happen. And it seems like I'll need a new name now, at least, for a while."

"Heh, well, think on it. I wanna go and check up on Parrot, I haven't seen her since we split up to search the apartment."

The nameless apartment owner nodded and Matt left, "Parrot! Where are you?"

A muffled greetings and noisy eating sounds were the only response. This was, however, enough for Matt to pinpoint her location, which was the kitchen. He walked inside and found her sitting on the floor, going to town on a bag of sugar, shovelling the stuff into her mouth.

"What in the world are you doing?"

She looked up at him and shrugged. She swallowed before speaking, "It's sooo good! I just smelled it in here and I couldn't stop! It's almost all gone though…"

As soon as she finished speaking, she went back to eating, quickly finishing the bag, and then began licking at her palms and claws to get any loose crumbs.

"I didn't think it was possible to eat that much raw sugar. Is it the kid in you or the zombie in you?"

She just looked at him innocently and shrugged, still sitting on the floor.

Matt sighed and picked her up, sitting her back on his shoulder, before returning to the living room and the newcomer, "Come on, we gotta help the new guy think of a name. We couldn't find his wallet."

When they returned, they noticed that there were bloody rags on the floor, and their new friend was wrapping fresh, clean ones around his head. The new ones looked more torn than cut, but at least they were clean. The fresh rags were a mix of red and white this time, and still covered his head to make him look bald.

"Ooo, more rags! Where'd ya get those?"

He looked to the little girl as he finished the last knot, "Some spare strips I had in the bathroom, and a curtain for strength."

Matt nodded, as did Parrot, but it was the former that spoke next, "So, think of a name for yourself yet?"

The other man shook his head negatively, and Parrot piped up cheerfully, "I'm gunna call you Rags! Cause you keep puttin' 'em on your head."

Rags blinked at this, "What? No, I don't think that's a good ide---"

Parrot quickly cut him off with, "Nope! Rags, Rags, Rags! That's your name now cause I say so!" She crossed her arms and gave a definitive nod, showing that she meant business, in her own little girl sort of way.

Matt and Rags both looked at her, slightly stunned, then to each other. The ridiculous degree of finality that Parrot had said her sentence struck them both as utterly hilarious, and soon both were laughing heartily. The little girl looked at them curiously and huffed, wondering what was so funny.

After calming down, Rags was the first to talk, "Alright, alright, I'll use Rags for now. Guess it's better than raggy man."

Parrot smiled wide and clapped her palms together, claws making little scraping noises as they scratched together, making Matt shiver a bit.

"What wrong?" She said, looking to Matt.

"Sorry, really sensitive hearing. Your claws scraping together sounds like nails on a chalkboard to me. Always sends a shiver down my spine."

"Oh, sorry."

"Jeez, you two are quite the pair. You seem like long time friends. When did you two meet up?" Asked Rags.

"Huh? Oh, about a half an hour ago. You kind of bond quickly when you think you might be the last two people in the world who can still think." Answered Matt, coming up with a quick explanation.

Rags nodded, accepting the response, "Then hopefully we can all get along," he said with a smirk.

They all smiled to one another, feeling better every second they were in each other's presence.

But the peace was broken by a crescendo of howls coming from the distance. "What the hell was that?" Asked Rags with a look of bewilderment on his face.

"I have no idea." Matt said, before running to the window to scope the situation.

Rags joined him, and Parrot, sitting atop her favourite shoulder, peered out the window as well. All of the zombies that had been calm before, ones just seemingly relaxing in the streets, were all now running as fast as they could, all growling in a feral manner, all heading in the same direction.

"What's wrong with them?" Asked Parrot.

"I have no idea, but how about we go find out? We can just stay out of their way and maybe we'll find out more about what's going on here. They'll most likely ignore us anyway."

"Alright, not like there's much left for us here anyway. I'd like to know more about this too." Said Rags with a nod.

All in agreement, they set out of the apartment and chased after the running horde, and like Matt had said, they were completely ignored by the running zombies.

* * *

A/N: I think I made a good choice not to write the gruesome bathroom scene. Well, now we have a party of three, but it wouldn't be Left 4 Dead without a fourth, now would it? Stay tuned.


	4. The Fourth

It was a quiet day at the bar on the outskirts of Pittsburgh, a favourite hangout for a renowned biker gang. Sitting at the bar was a large, muscle bound man wearing biker leathers. He had tattoos going all the way up his right arm, right up to the side of his face, touching lightly at his short, black hair. He was sipping his glass of rum peacefully when a dark figure loomed behind him.

"You got a lot of nerve showin' your face around these parts." Spoke the ominous figure.

The burly man turned around to look at the source of the remark, and he chuckled lightly, "I would love to see you try and kick me outta here, Francis."

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, before breaking into a friendly laugh. Francis extended his hand to shake, "Damn, Ashley, it's been a while. The Hell's Legion hasn't been quite the same since you took off."

Ashley chuckled and grabbed Francis' hand, shaking it a moment before letting go, "Yeah, well, I only have a few more stops to make before I come back and help you and the guys raise some hell."

"Now that's what I like to hear!" Francis exclaimed with a smile before sitting at the bar next to Ashley and ordering a drink.

"I'm heading to Philadelphia next, I think. There's someone there I want to meet." Said Ashley after a few moments.

"Oh yeah? Sounds like a decent place to visit. I think I might take a little trip myself. I'm starting to hate Pittsburgh."

"You hate everything, Francis."

"Do not. I love my mom, you know that."

"Always the family man."

They shared a hearty chuckle and downed their drinks quickly. Letting out content sighs, they just sat and thought of how things were.

"So… how long do you think you'll be?" Asked Francis.

"Two months, I think. You?"

"I was asking so I'd know my time frame, I'll probably take a month then. Things aren't the same anymore, so I think I wanna get away from it all for a while, you know?"

Both men gave a solemn nod, "It's why I left in the first place. Trying to rediscover life. I'm getting old, and I know it. I wanna know if there's anything out there I could be doing better, you know?"

"Old? Man, you're only forty. Too soon to be thinking your old. Beside, I'm older than you are; you saying that makes me feel like a grandpa."

Both men laughed heartily at this, and they continued to enjoy the other's company for a time. Eventually, Ashley rose from his seat and stretched, "As much as I love doing this, it's time for me to go. Don't wanna stay in one place too long, might get too attached."

"I hear ya. Take care man; I'll see you in a couple months."

Ashley smirked and nodded to Francis. They shook hands, patted each other on the back, and then went their separate ways, Francis towards Fairfield, Ashley towards Philadelphia.

* * *

The wind was blowing through his hair as he rode his motorcycle towards the outskirts of Philadelphia. The sun was setting in the distance, and he was eagerly awaiting the nightlife that would soon awaken. Ashley had been on the road for a several hours now, and he was getting hungry and low on gas. He figured he'd stop by a gas station to refuel in more ways than one, and hoped he still had enough money to cover it and still get drinks later on.

As he entered the city, his good mood turned foul as he noticed that there were cars leaving fast, others in crashes and there were large fires placed sporadically about. He cautiously drove a short distance into the city, grabbing his concealed pistol and holding it at the ready under his leather jacket.

Ashley turned his eyes skyward as he heard the sound of a helicopter approaching fast. More helicopters joined the first, and the biker finally saw them coming around a large building. They were military helicopters, and they were heading towards the outskirts of the city. He could see in one of the open doors a soldier with a gun and a few civilians all huddled together. As he focused his attention on that helicopter, another one in the sky behind it was having difficulty keeping aloft as someone inside had turned into a zombie.

The biker didn't know what the zombies were, or that they even existed yet, but as the helicopter caught his attention, he did know that it was heading straight for him. He swerved his bike to the side, only to start skidding out of control, heading straight towards the approaching helicopter.

The motorbike and helicopter collided, and it was only by the devil's luck did Ashley avoid fatal injury. He rolled and bounced off of the ground, breaking his left arm and hitting his head on the pavement, cracking his skull slightly. After coming to a stop, his consciousness began to fade in and out, and the last thing he saw before the darkness took him was a group of snarling, manic people running right towards him.

* * *

**Two and a Half Weeks Later**

He woke up with a groan of pain, his body feeling stiff and sore all over. His vest felt too tight in some places, and too loose in others. He grabbed his head with his left hand, which while still tender, was functioning. He couldn't remember why he hurt, or even what he was doing here, wherever here was. He used his right hand to push himself up, but it wasn't until he was standing upright that he noticed something was off.

The biker looked to his right arm and let out a small yelp, startled by the sheer size of it. He waved it around and looked at it closely. It was five times as big and twice as long as it used to be, rippling with muscles and covered in stretched or torn tattoos. The rest of his body had grown a darker color and looked thick, like animal hide. His leather jacket was tight around his chest, and ripped where his right arm had grown exponentially, but at least his blue jeans were all right, if dirty.

He looked around, a few dead bodies were strewn about, but there were still people shuffling about or lying on the ground, obviously alive. They didn't seem to care at all about the chaos and death around and seemed eerily peaceful. He gathered his wits about him and started to rummage through his pockets, hoping to find some semblance of information, either about himself or what was going on. In his pockets, he managed to find a dirty old wallet, and a simple pistol with a single full clip, fifteen rounds. It was hard having to use only his left arm, as his right was too big for dextrous activities, but he eventually put the pistol in an easily reachable pocket, and fumbled open his wallet.

There were a few crumpled ten-dollar bills and some change, which he ignored since he was wanting information, not currency. What interested him the most was his motorcycle registration, which contained his name.

"Ashley… yeah, that's right. My name's Ashley. Ashley Wilson." He spoke aloud as he continued to look over the papers.

He stuffed them back into his wallet after finding out nothing more about himself, save an old address that was located halfway across the country. His tattoos didn't tell him much either, just bits of the word hell and something about motorcycles due to the fact that they were too damage to read properly. Ashley checked his pistol again and decided to start looking around for some kind of sign or even a hint as to what happened here. He walked up to the nearest zombie, an extremely obese woman, thinking that since she was so calm he might not freak her out with his appearance, and gave her a light poke.

"Hey, lady? Uh… Excuse me?"

The woman seemed to be completely ignoring him, and he got a little frustrated at this. He grabbed her shoulder with his with his left hand and turned her around forcibly, then ducked and jumped back when she took a swing at him.

"Whoa, lady, I'm sorr---"

She took another swing at him before making high-pitched snarling and screaming sounds. He stopped for a moment and let her strike him on the chest, hoping that letting her get out her frustration would calm her down. While not feeling any real pain due to his thicker hide, the woman was becoming annoying as she just continued to pound away on his chest. He grabbed her by the head with his big arm, bringing her close to see, all the while, she just continued to try to injure him. While looking at her closely, the large armed biker could finally tell that she wasn't entirely alive or human anymore.

"Holy hell… just like that movie… Zombies!"

He tossed the woman, not realising the extent of his new strength, right into the wall in front of him. He had only meant to make her hit her head to scramble her zombie brains, but instead she popped like a balloon, covering him in a viscous green fluid.

"Ahh, god damn, it stinks!" He whined aloud and he started to rub it off.

He froze after he wiped his eyes and saw the nearby zombies beginning to rush him. He reacted quickly, drew his pistol, and began firing on the nearest ones. Ashley quickly ran out of bullets trying to fell them all, and resorted to bashing them in with his giant arm. A dozen zombies soon turned to none as he grabbed the last one by the head and crushed it into the pavement.

'Damn zombies… I have no idea what happened to me, but this arm sure came in handy here. And those things barely even scratched me. I'm invincible!' He thought proudly, raising the big arm into the air, feeling empowered.

His moment was shattered, however, when he heard a crescendo of howls coming from the city. Ashley turned to look and saw a veritable army of zombies rushing down the street towards him, some burning to death in fires along the way, but the bulk of them had a clear path to him.

"Well shit…"

Ashley glanced around, looking for anything at all to help him defend himself. Near him was the helicopter he woke up next too, and upon inspection, he saw that one of the blades was still attached and unharmed. Grabbing the rod that attached the blade to the rotor, he used his newfound strength to its fullest and bent the base of the rod until it snapped off. He gripped the end with his big arm, and held up the copter blade like a sword.

'This'll have to do for now.'

He knew he might not be able to handle them all, but he would sure as hell try. The first wave of the zombies hit, and fell to the might of Ashley's powerful swing as he cut them asunder.

* * *

The trio were still chasing the horde, running as fast as they could; except for Parrot, who was hitching a ride. They had taken to the roads, running by the sidewalks where the zombies were less likely to bump into them. Rags had bumped into one at one point, and the zombie that ran into him began to attack him. He'd used his butcher's knife to strike the zombie, catching it in the neck and felling it quickly.

He had mostly done so out of fright, and it was the first time any of them had killed one of the zombies. Rags seemed a little disturbed, along with Matt, but Parrot was still too young to get the nuances of life or death, especially in regards to things not entirely human. It was after this event that Matt realised something.

"You know… if these things are so pissed off, they might be going to kill something or someone. Rags is the only one with a weapon, and we might have to save someone, which means most likely killing these things. As much as I don't want too, they aren't people anymore, and need to be stopped. And in no way are we really equipped to take on so many at once."

"What about her? She might do good with those claws of hers." Rags pointed out.

"Yeah! Rawr!" Parrot said, swiping her claws in the air.

"I would rather not have a little kid dicing up zombies and getting covered in blood."

"Eww…" The little girl whined, returning her hands to her chest, remembering something about blood that left her uneasy.

"See?"

"Yeah, yeah… Still, why don't you just grab something in the streets here? Might find at least a blunt object to use or something." Suggested Rags, before taking a puff of his half-spent cigarette.

"You're probably right." The hunter said with a sigh, and started to look for a weapon as they ran.

* * *

Zombie parts littered the road as Ashley continued to swing. He had been swarmed several times and had to push them away, being forced to retreat little by little. His body was covered in scratches and bites, his blood flowing a little too freely for his liking, and he leather jacket had been torn away completely.

He was slowly being backed into a wall, and as well as he had been doing, there was still around two hundred zombies left. He didn't know why they were so angry at him, or why they were chasing him. He figured it had something to do with that foul smelling slime the fat zombie splashed on him when it exploded. None of the other zombies did that yet, so the first one must have been special.

While these thoughts were in the back of his mind, the forefront went something like this.

"Bring it on!" Chop. "Have some more!" Hack. "Die zombies, die!" Slash. "I will gut you all!" Thrust.

His bravado was a practiced act to give himself the confidence needed to face any task before him, including zombies. However, his resolve was faltering by the second as he became increasingly injured, and while the zombies were falling, it didn't seem like their numbers were dwindling. He even grew somewhat fearful as he saw a figure clad in dark green leap high into the sky, arcing towards him. He readied himself to cut at the leaper, only to find that it landed about ten feet short of him, and onto another zombie.

The leaper pulled out what looked like a police baton, and with a hard crack caved in the head of the zombie it had pounced upon.

"Looks like you could use a hand!" He said, Ashley knowing now that it was a he due to the voice.

"No clue how you did that, but you can talk and kick ass, so I'll take the help."

The green guy nodded and continued to fight with his modified tonfa, cracking zombie skulls quickly and efficiently.

To his left, Ashley heard a gurgling and coughing sound, followed by a wet slick. He saw as one of the zombies was wrapped up by a tentacle of some kind and pulled towards the owner of said tentacle. It was another weird zombie, but again, helping him like the green guy. This one had bandages all over its face, and once it had pulled the zombie close enough, it brought down a knife to cut the throat of its victim.

It spoke after sucking its tongue back in and taking a puff from a cigarette, "So that's what this thing is for." It then began to rinse and repeat the process.

Now that he had a few people on his side, he was regaining his confidence and started to fight harder, fighting past his fatigued to stave off the zombie horde.

* * *

Behind a nearby wrecked car, Parrot was hiding and gazing on in awe of the great battle her friends were fighting. They had both gone in to save the large man with the big arm, saying that he was like them, and might be a friend. She was happy at first about the notion of having another friend in this lonely place, but she was beginning to doubt if it was worth it as she watched the fight. She didn't want her friends to get hurt, especially Matt, since he'd been like a big brother to her since he found her.

She began to rub her claws together in worry, enjoying the light scratching sound they made, making her feel a little safer for some reason. She looked to her claws, then back to the fight, and gave little cheers to them as the number of zombies dwindled.

Her fears began to rise, however, as some of the zombies turned on Matt, smacking him about the head and body. She looked on in horror as they eventually knocked him down and began to stomp on him. Somewhere deep down inside of her, something snapped.

She jumped up onto the car, and cried out, "Leave. Him. Alone!"

Her voice escalated into a shriek; she threw her arms to the side, much like the crazy woman from before, and bolted forward faster than one would think her little legs could take her. The zombie nearest Matt were the first to go, their limbs and blood flying in all directions as her five-inch long claws sliced through them effortlessly.

Rags and the big-armed guy seemed to be in shock at what the little girl was doing, and thoughtfully stayed clear away from her, handling their own patch of zombies with worried expressions. What would have taken forever was now reduced to a few minutes as the little witch raged on, cutting down any zombie who ran towards her or Matt.

Soon, the final zombie fell, and the streets were quiet again save the panting of the men and the light growling coming from Parrot. Soon, she too went quiet as her eyes rolled back into her head as she passed out, collapsing down towards the ground.

Matt, who had had time to recover once Parrot had taken care of the zombies around him, caught her before she hit the blood-covered pavement. He picked up her light form and cradled her as he would a baby, and sighed heavily.

"I'm thankful she saved me… but I didn't want it this way."

He felt Rags approach him and put a hand on his shoulder, "I know what you mean, that was pretty brutal. Here… Give her to me; I'll go find something to clean her up with before she wakes up. You can go and talk to the big guy. You're good at that."

Matt seemed to think about it a moment and then nodded. He handed Parrot over to Rags, who walked towards a nearby apartment building, and walked over to the third half-zombie he had seen since awakening.

"Well umm… hello."

"Hey. That was umm… something, all right. I guess I should say thanks for the help." The big-armed guy responded, rubbing the back of his head with his little arm.

"Yeah, glad we could help." He sighed, "Damn… didn't think I'd have to be killing zombies in my life. And I wish she didn't have to do what she did…"

"Definitely, that was some scary stuff. Scrappy for a lil' kid."

"Seems so…" He said, before sighing again and putting his nightstick into one of his belt loops, "So, do you remember your name, or did you forget like the rest of us?"

"I think I forgot, but I had my motorcycle license on me. Name's Ashley Wilson." The big guy said, turning slightly to extend his hand towards Matt.

"I'm Matt Destin; I had my driver's license on me. The other two didn't have any kind of ID on them, however. So I'm calling them Parrot, the girl, and Rags, the guy, for now."

"Parrot and Rags, huh? I guess when you got nothin' else…"

Matt nodded, "Mhm. So… do you remember anything? Or why these things ran after you?"

"Not much, except riding a bike and drinking booze. And I think they came after me caused I made this fat zombie pop like a balloon and it splashed slime all over me. I think the blood got the slime to wash off."

Matt shuddered a little at how easily Ashley spoke of such things, and at the dread that he might have to learn to be the same way soon enough.

"Well… you're more than welcome to come with us, wherever it is we happen to go. We've been kind of flying by the seat of our pants, and I think all of us could use what friends we can get. We'll be looking for a clothing store next, we all need it, then maybe think about food and weaponry. I'm still not sure what the extent of our mutations are, so who knows what we'll need?"

"Yeah, you're going to have to fill me in on that whole zombie business. As for clothes and food, no idea. But, you might wanna check that chopper over there; it looks military and might have guns." He said, pointing to the helicopter.

The awakened hunter turned to where he could feel the hand pointing, and felt around. Sure enough, a hundred feet away, was a crashed helicopter. He nodded to Ashley, who was now ripping off some of the dead zombies' clothes to use as bandages, before walking over the copter. He couldn't exactly tell what was inside as the material of the helicopter was blocking the light vibrations he used to see. Pulling back his fist, he punched the copter as hard as he could, sending a large wave of vibrations throughout the vehicle.

He smiled lightly at what he felt inside, then turned to call to Ashley, "Hey, Ashley! I think I found something; I need your help getting this thing open though."

"Alright, gimme a second." Was his reply.

Ashley grabbed his helicopter blade, which was still in good condition, and walked over to the helicopter. He didn't want to part with it just yet, as it had saved his life earlier. He set it down when he arrived, and began pulling at the copter's metal, slowly making a large enough opening for Matt to get inside.

"That good enough?"

"Should be, thanks." The hunter replied.

Matt worked his way into the chopper, feeling around for what he'd sensed before. He did his best to ignore the four rotting bodies, long since dead, which occupied the wreckage. He soon found his bounty, however, in their hands, and in the back compartment of the downed vehicle. He grabbed the few guns he found, apologizing to the bodies for taking their things, and one by one tossed them out and onto the ground. Reaching in the compartment, he found the ammo needed to go into the guns, but he didn't know which went with which, so he just carried all of it out at once. The last thing he took was a couple of first aid kits that looks relatively undamaged compared to the others he had found.

"Alright… I think I cleared it out. So, do you know what guns I found? I can just tell they're guns, but I can't see the finer details to tell which kind. That, and I know next to nothing about guns."

"You blind?"

"I am. But I can see stuff with vibrations and touch, especially with touch. S'how I read my driver's license."

"Spiffy. Now, let's see here…"

Ashley, remembering quite a bit about weapons, began to sift through and appraise each one.

"Alright… we got four usable ones. A pump action shotgun, standard issue I think, good for close range stuff. Two MP5's, I think, automatic submachine guns. And we got a simple 9mm pistol, like the one I had earlier. We got plenty of ammo for it all too. About ten clips for the pistols, twelve clips for the MP5's, and uh… about four boxes of rounds for the shotgun; let's see… what's sixteen times four?"

"Sixty-four."

"Right, then sixty-four rounds for the shotgun, plus whatever might be in the guns to begin with. We also got some rifle rounds, but the rifle you found is beat to shit."

"Damn… you sure know your guns."

"Yeah, must've really liked guns before…"

"Could be, but still, this is a really good start. Should keep us safe for a little while. Now how the hell are we gunna carry it all with us…?"

"That does pose a problem… we need backpacks, I think. Here, how about I guard the guns and you go find something, alright?"

Matt thought for a moment, and nodded, "Alright. And go ahead and use one of those kits on yourself, better than filthy zombie clothes."

The biker nodded, and plopped himself down on the ground to work with one of the kits, which was proving difficult with just one dextrous hand.

The hunter turned to leave, and walked down the roads. Everything was eerily silent again, the only noise being the sounds of fires crackling, of Ashley trying to bandage himself up, and the vague noise of Rags wiping down Parrot with a cloth of some kind off in the distance.

The near total silence didn't help his search, as without noise his 'vision' was limited, so he had taken to snapping his fingers to cause enough sound to reverberate inside the nearby shops and homes, just enough to get a decent glance. His search took him a few blocks down the road to a rather large all-purpose clothing shop, something that brought a smile to his face.

The windows were broken, and some of the nearest racks had been stripped clean of clothing, but upon closer inspection, much of what was in the back was left untouched, or at worst knocked over. He took a few tentative steps inside through a broken window, drawing his baton as he did so, just in case a zombie or two was hanging around inside. He gave the place a quick once around, and found that he was the only thing moving in the entire store. Smiling lightly, he sheathed his nightstick and began to pick through the back of the store.

* * *

Rags was walking back towards the helicopter, carrying a sleeping, and clean, Parrot in his arms. He noticed that the big guy had bandages and plasters covering his wounds, and now seemed to be just lazing around, watching a pile of stuff.

"Hey, where's Matt?"

"Huh? Oh, there you two are. Yeah, he took off to go find some backpacks to carry all this stuff."

"What is it?"

"A first aid kit and an ass load of guns and bullets."

"Really? That'll come in handy. Oh uh… name's Rags, by the way."

"Yeah, Matt told me. I can see why too. I'm Ashley, nice ta meet ya." He said, extending his hand.

Rags nodded to Ashley and shook his hand, careful not to drop the little girl.

"So… what do you know about what happened to us?" The biker asked.

"Not a whole lot… Matt knows more, I think. Or at least he has his head on straight, let's wait for him to get back and then he can tell you."

"Fair enough. While you're here, wanna take a pick? One of the pistols is mine, though."

Rags nodded, and glanced at the guns. While he didn't like the idea of using a gun, he figured that around here, he would have too. "I think… I'll take one of the machine guns."

"Good choice, that leaves one more, and the shotgun. Not sure which Matt's gunna take."

"Shotgun!" Called a voice from a little ways down the road.

Rags and Ashley both looked towards the voice, and down the road, they saw Matt, who was carrying several backpacks, walking towards them. Upon arriving, he dropped two hiking backpacks, two gym duffle bags, and a little kid's schoolbag.

"Alright, this is what I found, and there's also a whole tonne of clothes where these came from, we can pick out some stuff that isin't covered in blood and smells and looks like crap."

"Yes!" Said Rags quietly with a smile, trying not to wake the girl in his arms.

"Good going. Hey, why're these two duffle bags duct taped together?" Asked Ashley.

"Ah, well, there wasn't any bag that fit your… unique size, so I improvised with a roll of duct tape I found under the counter." Matt shrugged, having thought it to be a good idea.

Ashley grunted as he stood up and picked the duffle bags off the ground to examine them. After a moment, he slipped the huge strap of one over his big arm, and the small strap of the other over his small arm.

"Hmm… not bad." Ashley said as he nodded appreciatively, before removing it so that he could start stuffing the weapons inside, "well, let's get to that clothing shop, I'm feeling a draft."

The other two men chuckled quietly. Together, they all walked towards the clothing store, bags in tow, all the while carrying little Parrot, who was still sound asleep.

* * *

They spent two hours in the clothing shop, picking out just the right things to wear. They each took two sets of clothes, and a total of four plastic ponchos in case it rained.

Matt had taken two sets of black undershirts and boxers, as well as two dark green tracksuits similar to his own. He liked the style and feel against his skin, and he'd asked the others about the color, since he was still unable to discern colors and it was his favourite. He managed to fit all of his clothes in his bag, and still had room to spare after putting in his duct tape and three boxes of shotgun ammunition. He emptied one of the boxes of ammo into the pockets of his hoodie, making sure they wouldn't fall out, so he could easily reload his shotgun. He had plenty of ammo now, especially since the shotgun was filled to its eight round capacity prior to him finding it, which made him happy.

Rags had taken to wearing a red dress shirt with a white undershirt, and simple black dress pants. His extra outfit consisted of something more durable, including thick jeans and a heavy jacket. He also chose to wear footwear, as opposed to the barefoot Matt, and now donned a pair of thick black and white sneakers, tough and good for running. He put four clips for the MP5 into his backpack, and two into his pants pockets for easy access. His pack still had quite a bit of room in it, but he was going to be filling it to the brim with cigarettes, since he seemed to need them to speak, and he was starting to run low.

Ashley decided to go for something he felt familiar with. He picked out two sets of large, thick jeans, big black boots, and two gigantic white shirts that fit a little too snugly around his chest. He had to make a few cuts on the right sleeves of both shirts, so that his arm would fit. The biker did the same to two leather jackets he found, oversized like before, but a good fit for his now much larger size. He still carried his helicopter blade with him, like how Matt and Rags carried their chosen melee weapons with them, and managed to find a place for it between the duct-taped duffle bags. His makeshift backpack had by far the most room, so they had all agreed that he'd carry the extra ammo, the other MP5, the plastic ponchos, and the food when they found some. He had his pistol in his front left pocket, with four clips for it in his front right for easy access.

Parrot, who had woken up earlier and wondered what had happened, had quickly switched interest from the adults trying to get around telling her what happened to the clothing in the store. She picked out something simple, a pink t-shirt with the word 'Princess' on it in bright letters, a small pair of jeans, and some socks and sneakers for her sore feet. At one point, she had found an oversized dark blue raincoat and tried it on. It was the only one in the store, and though it felt really comfortable, it was far too large for her length wise. She got the idea to cut the bottom off of it with her claws so that it wouldn't drag on the floor and it turned out rather well, if a little ragged. It fit over her shoulders, thankfully, and the length of it now made it look like she was wearing a thick, hooded dress. The sleeves went way past the ends of her claws, but she enjoyed being able to hide her mutation under them easily, making her feel more normal. The hood was large as well, when she put it up, it completely shadowed her visage and made it hard for her to see her own face in the mirror, and at the same time not affecting her line of sight too badly. It all made her feel safer, as if she had her own protective bubble to wear and hide inside of. Her pack held an extra set of clothes, much like the ones she wore now under her raincoat, and nothing else.

She was the last to finish dressing, and walked back to the adults while playing with something she found in her old clothes. When she walked into the main room from the dressing room, she heard the adults talking.

"I just don't think it's a good idea to give her a gun, alright?" She heard it was Matt speaking.

"We've got the gun to spare, and she's got nothin' but her claws to protect herself with. It could save her life one day." Said Ashley, as she'd been told his name was.

"While I think giving her the gun to protect herself might be a good idea, she could end up slicing through the trigger with her claws. Those things are frigging sharp." It was Rags this time that spoke.

"Okay okay… look… how about we just get her to hold it in her backpack, and ask her not to use it. See how things go for now. If it does get dangerous… then we'll find her a glove or something and show her how to use it." Matt said again.

"I don't like it… but I guess as long as she sticks close to us she probably won't need it." The gruff voice of the biker rang out next.

They seemed to all nod in agreement, and Parrot decided it was time to let her presence be known. "I can carry it in my backpack."

They all turned to her, and looked at the big raincoat she wore that hid her face, "Um… right. You heard that huh?" Matt asked, to which Parrot nodded. "Damn… alright, here. Turn around." He said, shaking his head, obviously not liking the idea, "Remember, don't use it."

Parrot nodded and bounced a little, turning around and giving Matt access to her little backpack. He opened it up and placed the loaded gun inside, as well as a single clip. He also decided to put the first-aid kit in there too, since she had enough room for it.

"There… now you can also be our little medic." He said, smiling at his comment.

"Yay! I'm helpful!" Parrot exclaimed excitedly, raising her arms up, causing her lengthy sleeves to flail around. She then held out her arms to Matt, "Up?"

"What? But you've got shoes now."

"But I like being high up… I wouldn't be a Parrot otherwise!" She smiled brightly, something only Matt could see clearly under her hood.

The others laughed as the hunter gave in, picking up the little witch and placing her on his shoulder.

They all turned to face the store, and double-checked to make sure their respective weapons were secured, but at the ready. All except for Parrot, who began to play with the thing she'd found before.

"What's that you got there?" Asked Ashley.

"A cell phone. I found it in my old clothes. S'dead though. Might'a been mine."

"Better keep it; we might be able to find a charger and a working power outlet. Could give you hints towards family or friends, your past and stuff, you know? Hell, maybe even some survivors." Said Rags, lighting up another cigarette.

Parrot nodded, and turned to Ashley as he spoke about something completely different, "Well damn… havin' to go out and face the zombie apocalypse… an' bein' half zombies ourselves. Shit… This'll be tough, ya know?"

They all nodded, and Matt was the next to speak, "I know. But we gotta go out there. We'll check for supplies as we go along, try to see if anyone's survived this, or became like us. I just hope to the gods that we find something soon."

"I hear ya. I think we should get some smokes and food first. Then… then see what happens." Rags said.

"Doesn't sound too bad." Spoke Ashley in agreement as they all started to exit the store, heading towards the streets filled with the light of dawn.

Matt nodded, "Alright then, we'll get some supplies, and then… then I think we should leave this city. By the looks of things, humanity has abandoned this place. This city, and everything in it, including us, has been left for dead."

* * *

A/N: I knew I had to work in the title here. I hope you liked the chapter. I decided to have the fourth be a Charger since a Boomer is prone to explosion, a Tank is too powerful, and having duplicate would've been lame. As a note to those who may be wondering why Matt has no eyes, it's because if you read the Wiki, you can see that the hunter has no eyes. Until next time in: First Dawn: Dead Streets. The first chapter of the first 'campaign'.

PS: Reviews are like a special fuel that helps me write. I love to hear your input. Thanks for your time!


	5. Mad Science: Chpt 1: Dead Streets

**Campaign: Mad Science**

**Chapter 1: Dead Streets**

The streets were filled with the dead, completely unmoving. For blocks they walked, conversing amongst themselves, speaking of anything they may have remembered, and of what they were to do. The common infected began to make appearances in the streets once more as they walked further into the city; showing how truly devastated the population of this once thriving town was.

They had come to the unanimous agreement that they were in Philadelphia, once they had seen a few signs with the name on them, and were making their way downtown. The four had little memories of the geography, so they were simply going where the roads took them.

"I am so glad these damn zombies aren't after my hide anymore." Ashley muttered, pistol at the ready in his left hand.

"Me too. It makes things much more peaceful. Anyway, have any of you seen a convenience store yet? We might be able to find food and stuff inside one of them. That is, hoping it hasn't been looted clean." Matt said before pondering a moment, "Any of you feeling hungry?"

Everyone seemed to shake their heads no, and he nodded, "Me too. Though, I don't remember eating anything since I woke up a few hours ago. Parrot did, so she has an excuse, but I wonder about the rest of us…"

"Hey, man, don't sweat it. We might've eaten or something before we woke up. I mean, I was locked in my bathroom with a whole tonne of food, and who knows what you guys were doing. We'll be fine." Rags said, slapping Matt on the back.

"Maybe, we'll have to see I guess."

"I want some more sugar…" Parrot mumbled, putting her raincoat covered hand to her lips, remembering the taste.

"What? Why? You ate a whole bag of sugar two hours ago!" The hunter said, looking at her incredulously.

"I know, but it was good!"

"An entire bag of sugar?" Both Rags and Ashley asked in unison.

"Er… yeah. She found a bag of sugar in your kitchen, Rags, and by the time I got to her, she had shovelled most of it down her throat already. Polished the bag off a few seconds after that." Matt explained.

Rags seemed slightly stunned, and Ashley spoke up, "A whole bag? I really don't think that's healthy there…"

"I'm fine! But I do want more…" She whined as she patted her tummy absently.

"Huh… still. You'll rot yer teeth out like that. Careful with the sweets intake." Ashley warned the little girl.

"Oh fine…" She said as she started to pout under her hood, kicking her legs a bit as she rode on Matt's shoulder.

The men laughed slightly at the little girl's huffing; taking what amusement they could get in this desolate wasteland.

"So… any idea what the plan is?" Rags asked.

"The plan?" Matt asked in response.

"Yeah, the plan. Like… what're we gunna do with ourselves? What if the whole world is like this? What if we do find living people and they turn us away? Or try to kill us because of what we are? What if we run out of food, or I run out of smokes? I need them to talk. I like being able to talk."

The other two men gave pause at the more serious questions, mulling over what they were about to say. Parrot didn't seem to care much, her mind currently focused on getting some more sweet sugar, her child mentality not entirely grasping the severity of the situation. Matt was the first to formulate his thoughts.

"Well… We can always try, you know? I say we search for some food first, and then search for hotspots or something to find actual people who could tell us what's going on. I, personally, would love to find out what the hell happened here, and to us."

"I can agree to that. But if anybody starts shooting at me and doesn't stop after I ask them nicely, I won't be afraid to shoot back." The large man said, tightening his grip on his gun.

"Then I'll leave it to you to deal with hostile people. I don't think I could bring myself to shoot a sentient person. Zombies are one thing, but actual people…"

The three men seemed to quiet up and gain sombre expressions on their faces, thinking of future actions and the consequences they may have to face. So much so were they lost in their thoughts that not one of them noticed when Parrot hopped off of Matt's shoulder and ran off down the street. She was a short distance down the street when Rags noticed her little escapade.

"Hey! Where're you going?"

He got no response from the scampering little witch.

"Oy! Stop! Dammit…"

Not wanting her to run off and get herself hurt, he removed his cigarette from his mouth and shot out his tongue.

"Eep! Lemme go! Noooo!" Parrot wailed as she was being dragged backwards, Rags' tongue around her waist, her arms flailing about in protest.

Upon bringing her close, he scooped her up in his arms, all the while she was struggling for freedom. "None of that now, can't run off without at least telling the adults why."

Ashley and Matt seemed to simply watch on in amusement at the exchange, earlier thoughts of facing decisions temporarily forgotten. They were both a little put off when Rags had shot out his tongue, but they were steadily getting used to each other's mutations, so they didn't think much of it as he dragged Parrot back to them kicking and screaming.

"But… But…" Parrot whined, pointing to a building down the street, "I smelled something really good over there! I wanna go see it! Maybe eat it…"

Rags couldn't help but laugh at the little girl's seemingly one track mind, and the other two soon joined in. Parrot huffed as she felt like she was being laughed at again, and she really wanted to go to where the nice smell was.

After a good laugh, Matt took an experimental sniff in the air. His powerful nose picked up on a few scents in the area, mostly burning cars and decaying corpses. However, there was a sweet underlying smell wafting from the direction Parrot had been pointing too, the smell of cooked meat.

"Hey, she's right. Smells like food, I think." Matt said to the group.

"Food? Hey, maybe we should check it out?" Ashley asked.

The others nodded, and Parrot clapped happily, as she was getting what she wanted.

Taking Parrot back from Rags and putting the little girl back on his shoulder where she liked, Matt decided to take point, and walked towards the building. As they drew closer, the foul smell of rotting meat overpowered the smell of cooked meat and assaulted the hunter's sensitive nose.

"Ugh… what kind of place is this? It stinks!"

"Can't ya read, Ma--- Oh, wait, you can't, right. Sorry. Its sign says Janice's Meats, looks like a butcher shop." Ashley said to the blind hunter.

As Matt was clenching his nose, listening to Ashley explain something, and Parrot bouncing anxiously, Rags decided to try the door. He pulled the handle and was met with disappointment as he found the door was locked tight.

"Well damn… door's locked, folks. Windows are intact too. How're we gunna get in?" He said, turning to the other three.

It didn't take Ashley long to come up with a solution, "Easy, like this."

He pulled back his big arm as he moved to stand in front of one of the larger windows meant for customers to peek into the store. With a resounding smash, he punched the glass, shattering it to pieces instantly.

"Hah! This arm is gre---" He said before getting cut off by a shrill security alarm.

Matt clasped his hands over his ears, "Oh, gods! Someone turn that off! It hurts!"

"I will!" Cried out Parrot as she hopped off his shoulder and ran into the store, wanting to help out.

As she did this, Matt made a large leap away from the store, leaving the three behind, and landed on a nearby streetlight. Being farther away from the noise now, his head was clearing, and he heard a new sound. A rising crescendo of horrid howls, which meant only one thing. He grabbed his shotgun from the side of his backpack, and yelled to the group, hoping they'd hear him.

"They're coming! The zombies are coming!"

He pumped his shotgun, and waited to pounce the first zombie that entered the range of his senses.

"Shit…" Rags said, as he looked to Matt waving on the streetlight.

"What? I can't hear shit all!" Ashley said, digging in his ear with his little finger.

"Matt's got his gun out! I think he hears something we don't!" The smoking smoker yelled to the biker.

"Dammit!" He said before readying his pistol and turning to the butcher shop and yelling, "Parrot! Hurry up with that alarm! It driving us nuts and something's coming!"

Her response was drowned out the ringing of the alarm, and the biker only managed to hear a small noise that he knew came from the little girl inside. He drew his helicopter blade from between his makeshift backpack, and stood guard at the door.

"Rags, you head out closer to Matt, I'll stay here and stop anything that might come close to me. You don't look too suited for getting up close and personal, so you should keep yer distance. If it's those zombies again, you'll do well being out of the way of their stampede."

Rags nodded to Ashley, "Yeah, that's true. You'd better be ready for this. I'll see what I can do to help."

Rags drew his gun and switched off the safety. He looked around for a good vantage point, and saw a nearby fire escape ladder on the other side of the street near Matt. Thinking fast, he ran over, climbed the ladder, and took a look at things from his higher vantage point. The butcher shop was located at the top of a T intersection; smack dab in the middle, and down all the roads, Rags could see the horde approaching fast. He readied his gun, placing the butt against his shoulder, looked down the sight with his one good eye, and placed his finger on the trigger. Just like how the gun expert of a biker had showed him earlier after they left the clothing store. The smoker was now ready for them.

Matt, crouching atop his streetlight, started to screen out the sound of the screeching alarm that was assaulting his ears, and focused on the oncoming horde. Their countless footfalls assaulted his senses as he tried to piece them together, trying to search for an individual. In the end, he couldn't. There were simply far too many of them creating far too much noise at once; he knew he had to get closer to be able to fight these things properly. He chose the group coming down the middle of the T intersection, and with a powerful leap, the hunter soared at them, landing on one of the front-runners, crushing its bones, killing it.

Ashley stood guard at the door, watching as the zombies rushed towards him. He saw Matt and Rags shooting periodically, fighting the zombies in their own way. With lots of ammo, the other two could handle a lot of zombies all at once like this, but their ammo supply was small. He knew this is where he came in. The others may have their roles to play, and while he didn't outright know what they were, he knew precisely what his role was. Fighting. He was the only one who could deal out a lot of damage while not wasting ammunition. He knew he was the fastest at doing this too, having the biggest weapon and the most experience in fighting, even if he didn't remember much of it. The biker knew now that his parts to play would be times like these. Bringing up his copter blade, the charger watched as the horde approached him, and with a mighty swing, began to strike them down.

Parrot was inside the butcher shop, and severely annoyed. The noise was driving her nuts, and plugging her ears didn't help at all. She was following the noise, trying to find its source, and her search brought her up to a shelf. She could see that a small red panel, like a fire alarm, was making the noise up on the wall, and she decided she needed to break it. However, the panel was far too high to reach, but she did see that there was a ventilation panel right next too it. She found a second vent just above the shelf, which now brings her here, looking for a place to climb. She shook the shelf, making sure it wouldn't fall on her. The shelf seemed stable and securely attached to the wall. Swallowing hard, the little witch began her climb, trying to do her part to help the adults out by getting rid of the noise that hurt their ears.

The smoker continued to open fire on the incoming horde. He generally aimed for the head, but he wasn't a crack shot. The large number of enemies compensated for this, however, as almost every bullet he fired struck one zombie or another. He emptied his first clip, and began to replace it with a second. He still wasn't adept at the motions, so he had to take his time to reload properly, and remove his eye from the battlefield. The smoker returned his gaze to the streets, and began a quick count. He found that the counting came extremely easy to him, even with the hectic movements. Two-hundred and six moving zombies was his total after a few moments. There didn't seem to be anymore coming from the roads, and he assumed that there simply were no more than this in the area. Rags readied his weapon again, and began to fire into the thickest crowd.

The hunter was shoving shells into his shotgun mid-air as he leapt out of the way of the horde of zombies. They had started to hit him when he got in their way, so he resorted to pushing them down for a quick reprieve and a chance to get away. He had quickly expended the eight rounds in his weapon, firing every which way into the mass of zombies, but he could still feel many more. He managed to reload three shells before landing on and crushing a running infected, he seemed to have a knack for that, always landing on something moving. He fired his shells at the oncoming infected, slaying several in a splash of blood. Matt had decided, due to the cumbersome manner of reloading his shotgun, to take out his police baton for close combat, making excessive use of his leaping whenever the infected turned their attention to him.

The large charger fought his hardest against his second wave of zombies that day. His blade and gun has been doing a good job of keeping the infected away from the store, but he was beginning to lose ground. He could see that the mob had stopped gaining in number, however, the ringing was still ever present, giving him a massive headache. The biker was covered in scratches once more, but nothing he couldn't shrug off at the end of the day. What was taxing him most was raw fatigue. His large arm was growing sore and tired from overuse, and his little arm was suffering from the kickback of his pistol. After he had run bullets out of bullets moments before, he made a mental note to figure out a way to reload it one handed. He would do that later, however. Right now, Ashley felt like he could use a nap.

The little witch was crawling through the small vent on her hands and knees, her small size making the trip easier. The ringing was even worse for her now as the noise echoed through the vents, driving her to move as fast as she could. She finally arrived at her destination, the vent beside the alarm, and pulled her long sleeve down to reveal her claws. As she had done to the previous grating, she sliced the thin metal between her and her target, cutting a sizeable hole for her to squeeze through. She poked her body halfway out of the vent, one hand keeping her balanced, the other baring its claws and ready to strike. She found the little red box that was making the noise on the wall beside her and brought her hand back before swinging hard at the offending device. She repeated her stabs over and over again, the sound distorting heavily for a few moments before dying completely. Parrot sighed happily at the silence that followed.

The three outside were relieved as well when the noise finally died, but it was quickly overshadowed by shock as all of the infected, save the one Ashley was holding by the scruff of its neck, had stopped dead in their tracks. Some began to sit, others leaning against nearby walls, and the remaining simply shuffled around aimlessly.

The biker quickly disposed of the infected in hand by smashing its head on the wall before speaking up, "Uh… why'd they stop?"

"I… have no idea." Matt replied, walking around the remaining infected and towards Ashley.

"They stopped at the exact moment the alarm stopped… that's far too coincidental for these mindless things," Rags said as he started climbing down the fire escape, "there has got to be some kind of relation."

"These bastards sure like running at weird things…" Ashley commented.

"Yeah, seems like…" The hunter said, scratching the back of his head.

They stopped their pondering when a little distressed voice call out, making them turn towards the shop, "Help! I can't get down!"

The others gave strange looks into the butcher shop, and together they went inside. Parrot seemed to be getting a knack for making them laugh, even after a dire situation like the one they had faced. The sight before them was a testament to her ability.

Parrot had apparently fallen out of the vent after she had stabbed the alarm into silence and got her coat stuck on the edge of the grating. She was now hanging, legs kicking wildly as she tugged on the stuck part of her coat, trying to free herself from her predicament.

Due to his exhaustion, Ashley was the first to stop laughing at Parrot, who was squawking unintelligibly in protest to the laughing and wanting to get down. He walked over and helped the poor girl, grabbing her waist and torso with his massive right hand, and lifted her up off of the vent before setting her down on the ground.

"Thank you, Ashley." The little witch said, hugging his leg affectionately.

"Welcome, squirt. Now, I think we should probably search this place for anything we can find."

Parrot huffed and let go of Ashley after he called her a squirt, but got to looking for things with the others soon enough. She opened a door that was leading to the scent she caught earlier, snuck inside, closed the door behind her, and began to secretly enjoy it.

The others found more fruitful in their searches. Rags had found a set of quality butcher knives that looked large, sharp, and deadly. Matt had found a meat locker filled with rotten meats, the source of the smell from before he assumed. He did eventually find a small refrigerator and was happy to find some portable foodstuffs within. Ashley had found things of different usefulness, including a set of zip ties, a blade sharpener, and a toolbox.

After fifteen minutes of digging around, the three met back at the front counter. Matt was busy sorting out the food into piles depending on when the food would expire, Rags was setting out the knives he thought they could use, and Ashley was looking contemplative.

"I think I can work with these… Yeah, work real well." The biker said, before rubbing his eyes, "but first, I want some of that food, and a nap."

The other two nodded, and Matt spoke up, handing Ashley an orange and apple as he did so, "Here, have some of this fruit, it'll go bad first out of the bunch so we should eat it now."

Rags looked around a moment as Ashley began to eat, "Uh… I think we're missing Parrot. Where'd she go?" The smoker said.

Matt felt around, and soon enough he located the little girl, "I know where she is. Behind that door," he said, pointing to a door leading to somewhere, "and she's… eating something?"

They all turned curiously to the door, and with Rags taking point, walked towards it. Upon opening it, they saw something that they found incredibly interesting.

The room that Parrot sat in was almost bare, save a few things on the shelves, including a few boxes of sugar cubes, one of which the little girl was helping herself too. The thing that stood out the most, besides their companion, however, was the bright red, heavy steel door with a symbol of a house with a plus sign in the middle painted on. Knowing that the little witch was safe, and quite content at doing what she was doing, the three men walked to the door.

"While a big metal door could be interesting, I can't seem to see why, if you know what I mean. Mind filling me in?" Matt asked, unable to tell anything other than it was a big heavy door.

"It's red with a weird drawing on it. Really out of place looking for a butcher shop." Ashley answered, "Think you could tell what's inside?"

"Yeah, a bunch of stuff… chairs I think. No one inside though. Can't tell too much else, the walls are too thick."

"Let's take a peek, shall we?" Rags said, reaching out and turning the knob on the door.

He gave a solid push, but the door wouldn't budge. He felt something shake on the other side, but before he could formulate a theory on what was stopping him, Matt spoke up.

"It's barricaded. I felt a whole bunch of tables and maybe a mattress when you pushed it."

"Huh… Ashley, I think this might be your department." Rags said, turning to the biker in question.

The charger sighed, "Yeah, yeah. Step aside."

The smoker did as he was told, and Ashley got to work. He turned the knob with his little hand, and with his big arm, he pushed the door open slowly. The makeshift barricade collapsed, causing the objects it was composed of to clatter to the ground. Being the one to open the door, he was the first to get a glimpse inside.

The room had a couch and a pile of sleeping bags in one corner. It was mostly in disarray, with objects loosely thrown about. The walls were scrawled with countless messages left by people who were long gone. A portable stove with a frying pan on it was plugged into an outlet in the corner, still turned on, and currently burning some meat. People were here very recently, and they seemed to have left in a big hurry. On the other side of the room was a second door, red like the first, but wide open.

"Boys and girls, I think we've just found our first signs of life."

* * *

And there you have it, the first chapter of the first campaign. Will they finally find someone to tell them what's going on? Stay tuned to find out.


	6. Mad Science: Chpt 2: Special Chase

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Campaign: Mad Science

**Chapter 2: Special Chase**

They acted quickly with the newfound information. They had all spent no more than five minutes packing their things and getting ready to move out, much to Ashley and Parrot's annoyance. The biker was exhausted, and didn't like the idea of having to run off chasing after people who may very well shoot them instead of talking it out peacefully. He reluctantly went along in the end after Rags had convinced the little witch to come along. She wasn't happy about leaving her stockpile of sweet sugar behind, so they compromised by stuffing as many boxes of the stuff as they could into the little girl's backpack, and emptied a final box into her deep pockets.

"There, happy now? We need to move." Rags said, kneeling down to talk to the little girl.

"Oh fine! We can go find the people then." Parrot said, a little grouchy until she popped a sugar cube into her mouth.

The smoker nodded and turned to the others, "You guys ready?"

"Ready as we can be." Ashley grumbled, "Damn I'm tired…"

"We'll find a place to rest soon enough. Now come on!" Matt pushed him on. He decided to take point; he rushed out of the safe room's backdoor, heading into an alleyway.

Looking around, he formulated a quick plan, "Alright, I'll take to the rooftops. I'll take Parrot with me since I can carry her, and it'll be nice to have a set of eyes up there to help."

The little witch bounced on her heels in excitement, waiting for the change to fly high on Matt's shoulder again.

"Good. Ashley, Rags, you two probably can't handle the rooftops like I can. So the two of you should stick to the streets, preferably in the shadows so they don't see you for now. We gotta do this carefully."

Reluctantly, the other two nodded at this. "Alright. We've got the plan, let's go."

Matt quickly leaned down and picked up Parrot, placing her on his shoulder that she seemed to like to much. He felt around and noticed a fire escape on the back of the building. Crouching down, he took aim and leapt with all his might, landing on a fire escape. Taking aim once more, he bounded off again, landing on a nearby rooftop and out of sight of the other two.

Once on the rooftop, he walked to the edge and sniffed. Gunpowder. The air below was thick with it, and the scent of iron was heavy. Blood, he figured. The survivors were alive and kicking, hard. "Parrot, what do you see down there?"

Leaning forward on her perch, Parrot took a look at the scene below and began to describe it, "Well… lotsa zombies lying everywheres. They're not moving either. Lots of bullets on the ground too. Kinda moves like a trail."

"Which way does it lead?"

"That way." The little witch said before pointing in the direction the bodies led.

The hunter nodded and began his chase, leaping from rooftop to rooftop as fast as his enhanced legs could carry him.

* * *

After the hunter bounded to the rooftops, Rags and Ashley turned to look at one another. They knew each other a little bit from talking in the clothing shop, but without the other two around, things felt a little awkward.

"Right… guess we should head out. Right? We gotta find those people." Rags said to Ashley with uncertainty.

"Yeah… Yeah. Dammit, I really wish they'd have waited or something…" He sighed, "Let's see. There's bullet casings everywhere. They're armed heavily by the looks of it. The trail goes that way, easy to follow." Ashley said as he viewed the scene.

The smoker nodded in agreement, "Yeah, seems like it does. I guess we'll follow the trail until we hear gunshots or something."

The biker nodded in return, and the two made their way down the street, sticking to the near empty sidewalks for the most part. The path of bodies stopped occasionally, but it was easy for the two to pick up the trail again.

As they walked, Rags decided to try to break the ice, "So, those're some pretty interesting tattoos you have there. Hard to read them though."

"Yeah. I can't remember what they used to mean. Has to do with motorcycles, and I had my registration on me when I 'woke up'. So, seems I used to be a big fan of bikes. Might still be if I find one working enough to appreciate."

"That sounds like it could be fun. I have no idea what I used to do. I've been counting a lot of things though, since those zombies half an hour ago. Counting quick, but not sure what that tells me."

"Eh, it can have its uses, I'm sure." The charger said, before a pregnant pause filled the air. He spoke again, "You know, I've been curious, I figured ya got your name from those rags you wear on your face."

The bandaged smoker nodded to him before he continued, "What's with them?"

"I…" Rags sighed a moment before collecting his story, "When I woke up, I had these horrible… things, attached to my face. Nerveless sacs of flesh just dangling there. It was horrific. When I saw myself in the mirror, something just snapped, and I felt the need to kill the monster I had become. Instead, I did the next best thing. I heated up my butcher knife and performed a self operation. Hurt like a bastard."

The large biker looked somewhat astonished, "Dayum… Hacking off part of yer face like that… Wait, how'd it hurt? You said they were nerveless."

"I tried to wimp out and cut the nerveless parts, but it just grew back twice as big. I had to cut a tiny bit of my normal face to make sure it didn't grow back. My left eye barely works now."

"Shit man… You got a pair the size of my head. I don't think I could've done something that hardcore."

Ashley gave Rags a look of respect, and then clapped him on the back with his little hand. The smoker stumbled a bit and then smirked, "Thanks, man."

They both quickly turn their attention to a nearby alleyway as they heard a strange gurgling sound. They quickly nodded to each other and made for the sound, thinking it could be potentially a survivor, and possibly injured at that. Upon turning in to the alleyway, they saw a fat, disgusting man with horrible sores covering his exposed flesh. He moved down the alleyway at a surprising speed, seeming to be in a rush to get somewhere.

Ashley turned his head to Rags, "I have a gut feelin' we should follow this thing. We might end up closer to the people we want to find."

The smoker nodded, "Right, let's go then, shall we?"

Together, they set off after the strange, bloated man.

* * *

Matt could tell he was getting ever closer. The sound of gunfire was echoing in his ears now, just barely getting past the squeals Parrot made as he leapt from roof to roof.

"Parrot, quiet down now. I need you to be my eyes for a minute. I can hear the gunshots clearly, but I can't make much else out. What do you see?" The hunter asked quickly.

"There's people, a few of them, and they're shooting the bad zombie guys!" The little witch said as she pointed excitedly towards the battle.

He allowed himself a slight smile at knowing he was close to his goal, but he knew he had to play it safe. The two of them were still zombies in appearance, at least, he was. Parrot's coat did wonders for hiding her mutations, and made her look rather normal, if a little silly. The hunter continued along the rooftops, quickly gained on the people below, and now gained a mostly clear sense of what was going on.

There were three people still alive below; he could smell their very life wafting from their bodies. One woman and two men, he figured, from the way the vibrations bounced off of their forms. He discovered that while he and the others didn't attract the zombies' attention without physical contact, the survivors seemed to piss them off just by being nearby. It brought to light a few things for him.

"Ewww… what's that thingy?" Parrot whined as she pointed to something.

An obese, sore covered zombie was making its way out of an alley in front of the path of the survivors. The odour assaulted Matt's senses; never before had he smelled something so utterly putrid in his life. It only got worse as the zombie vomited all over one of the men below.

"Boomer!" Cried out the woman as she shot the offending zombie, causing it to explode in a fountain of gore.

The normal zombies began pouring out of nowhere, running after the man who was covered in slime as he shot at them blindly, all the while trying to wipe himself off. Very similar to what happened to Ashley, the hunter noted.

A choking, hacking sound came from his left. For a second he thought that Rags had forgotten to take a puff, but as he felt for the smoker, he noticed a few differences. The newcomer didn't have quite the same smell as his friend did, and it had horrible fleshy sacs hanging from its face. A moment later, the new zombie shot out its tongue, wrapping it around the woman below.

"Smoker's got Cheryl!" Yelled at one of the men as he opened fire with his assault rifle. It did not take long for the smoker to die, releasing a horrid cloud of foul smoke.

"He went poof!" Commented the little girl on his shoulder.

"Shh… Keep quiet. We need to watch this for now…" Matt said, scolding her lightly.

Parrot quickly made a small squeak, covered her mouth with both coat-covered hands, and watched on at the happenings below.

* * *

Rags and Ashley has taken to the shadows as best they could when the boomer, as they now knew it to be called, exploded violently. Thankfully, the horde provided enough of a distraction for them to go unnoticed even with the biker's large stature. They had done a little to help by killing a few of the zombies who were rushing down their alleyway, the smoker using his butcher knife and the charger using his arm, but it didn't seem to make much of an impact in the level of danger.

They had found that the greatest danger came from the abnormal ones, the boomer and smoker as they were called. They found themselves lucky that the special ones didn't seem to pay them any mind at all, as demonstrated by a hooded one that snuck up on them.

Rags had jumped slightly in fright as he saw it beside them, crouched onto the ground and perfectly silent. Before he or his friend had a chance to react, it leapt forth with ferocious screech that hurt their ears, and landed on the male at the rear of the survivor trio.

They watched as it began to claw at him, but it was quickly shot dead by one of his companions. The man, as large and tough as he looked, still needed to be helped up by the other guy in the group, a heavily scarred individual.

"Get your ass up, Ted!" The scarred man said.

Ted took the man's hand and used it to get up onto his feet, "Thanks, man. God damned hunters…" He growled before moving on with the rest of the group.

From the shadows, Ashley spoke as he watched on, "Well, seems you an' Matt aren't the only ones like… what you are. If they've named them, means they must show up a lot. Wonder if there's more like me…"

"Who knows? Anyway, let's keep watch. See if we can find an opportunity to follow, or even introduce ourselves."

"I'd rather not. They seem really trigger happy, and while I can't blame them for that, I'd prefer not to get shot. We should wait until they find a calm spot to rest, and then work from there."

As if to grant his wish, he heard the girl, Cheryl, her name was, yell something to her companions as she turned the corner on the street, "Safe house ahead! We're gunna make it!"

"Finally! After something set off that alarm, I thought we were screwed!" Said the scarred man.

"Bah, suck it up. You've been through worse." Spoke up Ted.

"So? Doesn't mean I have to like having to skip breakfast to run from a bunch of damn zombies."

Their bickering continued as they turned the corner, giving Rags and Ashley a good opening to walk out into the street. As they did so, Matt landed beside them, Parrot clutching at his hood while on his shoulder, with an audible thud.

"This is good, they've found another place to be safe, as the name suggests. We could let them calm down and approach them carefully. Sounds good?" Spoke the hunter after landing.

The others nodded, and they all began to make their way to the corner of the street.

"I'll be glad when I can stop and sit for a while." Ashley complained.

"You'll get your chance once they get inside. We'll have to wait up for them to calm down. You'll see, you'll get your break." Rags said reassuringly, patting the perturbed charge on the big arm.

The biker's response was cut short by a thunderous roar and a chorus from the survivors, "TANK!"

The quartet quickly pressed themselves up against a wall near the corner. Rags was closest to the edge, and peered around the corner carefully as Matt uses his senses to observe the scene. The smoker began to relay the information in a panic.

"Holy shit! That thing is huge. They're--- They're shooting at it like mad but it doesn't seem to care."

A moment later, Rags, Ashley, and Parrot, who hopped off Matt's shoulder, walked around the corner to get a better look at the event, and to maybe help. The hunter decided to stay hidden, but brought himself low to the ground, pressing his ear to the ground curiously as he heard a strange rumbling.

The Tank was a vicious creature, smashing everything in sight, even the road it stood on. The trio of survivors had managed to make their way around the beast, but not without injury. Cheryl was nursing her right arm after she had taken a hit from a flying chunk of rock, but she continued to shoot with her machine gun in one hand. They were running towards the safe house, but there was a crashed transport truck in the way. It spanned the road, having been caught in some kind of fissure, possibly a gas line burst or a collapsed sewer. They didn't even have time to think about climbing it as they approached before the Tank screwed them over.

The monster of a zombie had decided to grip into a fracture in the pavement about twenty feet behind them. As it lifted, it pulled out a large slab of asphalt and the bits of piping underneath it. As it tugged hard on the piping, attempting to dislodge it so it could throw the projectile, it tore away the tubes that were helping to support and already damaged road. The churning under the surface of the road made it all finally give way, causing the survivors to fall down through the newly made hole and into the sewers. However, much to the Tank's dismay, the truck that had been lodged in the road tipped and slid down further, completely blocking off the hole.

Curses rang from Rags and Ashley, but Matt quickly hushed them, "Quiet! I knew something was up. I heard the ground cracking a bit, and that crashed gave me a lot to see. There's a huge underground network down there. And… yes! They're alive; I can hear all three of them moving."

"You can really hear all that?" Parrot asked in awe.

"Yeah but… dammit. They're moving away now. Shit, away from us, and that Tank thing is moving towards the one thing between it and them."

"Argh! Dammit! Alright, I don't care. I'm sick and tired of running right now. I say we go kill that thing to give them a chance, and then hope we see them another time. We'll use the safe house they were gunna use." Ranted Ashley, who was fed up with the circumstances.

With a sigh, Matt continued to listen, "Alright. Let's hurry. That cave in let me feel a lot but now most of the vibrations are gone. I doubt I'd be able to find them now anyway, unless we found a way into the sewers. Especially if they go further down. The pavement and concrete is too thick to carry the sound of footsteps."

He grabbed his shotgun from his pack and made sure it was loaded. He was down to fifty-three spare shells, and he had to make them count. Ashley grabbed his helicopter blade and pistol, and together, they made they're way to the Tank quickly, but not before getting Rags to take Parrot to a hiding spot.

Matt was the first to take charge. He knew that it could cause a lot of trouble, but he wanted to give the people in the sewers a chance, and he wanted some peace for a while. He leapt forward, landing behind the Tank as it smashed into the truck, thrust his shotgun to within an inch of the monster's spine, and opened fire. He figured the close range would add a punch, and while it did leave a gaping, bloody wound, he only managed to fire off three rounds before the zombie decided to try and dispatch of the annoyance.

Ashley ran forward, leaving Rags and Parrot behind, and readied his pistol. He watched as the Tank took a swing at his hunter friend, only for the half-zombie to leap away, getting off another shot before doing so. The biker brought up his pistol, moving forward at a slow pace, and began to unload his clip. The monster didn't seem to mind at first, but by the fourteenth round he finally had its attention. He rushed directly at the roaring zombie, running faster than he thought he could manage and drove his helicopter blade forward. The super zombie didn't even see it coming as the semi-sharp object was thrust into its chest and came out through the other side.

Rags watched on from his nearby hiding place, behind a wrecked car, with the little witch girl. Truth be told, he was utterly terrified of the giant monster zombie that had turned its attention to his friends. A horde of zombies that went down easily and weren't targeting him he could handle. A second horde a short time later that wasn't targeted at him while he had a gun, he could handle. A giant zombie that seemed immune to all forms of pain and bullets that was unnervingly strong, he could not. He clutched to his automatic weapon like a protective blanket, but far too shaken to actually shoot. It wasn't until he saw Ashley skewer the hulking monstrosity through the chest did he regain his wits. He saw the Tank begin to stumble, flailing around sluggishly, and in its motions managed to strike the charger who stabbed it, sending him flying several feet back. He knew he had to act fast so that they could all walk out of this alive.

Parrot stood just behind Rags, but unlike him, she wasn't frightened, she was worried. She didn't want anything bad to happen to her friends. She had put her backpack on the ground and was rummaging through it rapidly. The little witch saw her smoker friend poke around from the car and open fire on the stumbling monster. She wanted to help them out, but she knew she couldn't fight like they could. That didn't stop her from wanting to try, though. Digging deeper past the first-aid kit and sugar she had, she found the pistol the adults had given her and drew it from the bag. She had seen how Ashley used his, but she figured she'd need both of her hands, as the gun seemed giant to her. She poked her head up from the cover of the car, the side opposite to the adult she was hiding with, and took him aim with both hands. She closed one eye, stuck out her tongue in concentration, and aimed at the Tank's head. Her raincoat-covered claw slowly squeezed the trigger.

Rags was reloading and Matt was helping Ashley to his feet. They were about to retaliate against the somehow still living Tank when a shot rang out. The single bullet came from seemingly nowhere beside the smoker and, by a feat of pure luck, crashed into the monster zombie's forehead, causing it to stumble back. A small shriek of fright echoed out after the shot, and while the hunter and smoker of the group turned to the little witch, the charger took action. He moved forward, grabbed the handle of his blade that was protruding from the hulking zombie, and pulled and thrashed it out of his foe, leaving behind horrible wounds.

A moment later, the Tank finally bled out, and collapsed on the ground.

Rags and Parrot soon joined the other two in the middle of the street. Ashley was panting heavily, as was Matt, but their attention was on the little girl holding the pistol in her hands.

Shyly, she extended her hands, the gun laying in her open palms right next to a tiny bit of metal, "I'm sorry, I broke it…" She said before sulking like only a child could.

From what they gathered, when she pulled the trigger and fired, it startled her and caused her hand to clench too tightly, and she ended up severing the trigger.

Matt sighed, "As glad as I am for the help, I really…" He halted his words when he felt her lip quivering, and he sighed again, "I really just want to say; Thanks, Parrot."

He gave her a smile and patted her head, and she physically brightened up by straightening her back and smiling wide.

"I had a feeling she'd break the gun if she used it." Rags commented, much to the little witch's dismay.

"Ah, it's alright. I'll fix it after a good nights sleep." Ashley said, trying to brighten the mood, "Now come on! I'm tired and there's a safe house right there."

"Yeah, we'll worry about those three tomorrow… I felt that they went that way," the hunter said, pointing vaguely towards the safe house, "and if we keep going that way, we'll be sure to find them. As long as they make it…"

"They'll be fine, now get your asses moving, c'mon!" Crowed the biker as he put his blade back, and reloaded his pistol.

They all nodded in agreement, Parrot took her place on Matt's shoulder as usual, and together they walked to the safe house, intent on resting for the night.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Things have been hectic, but here you go, another chapter complete. Next chapter will be a bit more docile, but just as important. Stay tuned for Chapter 3: Grim Repose. Reviews are very much appreciated and help me write faster.


	7. Mad Science: Chpt 3: Grim Repose

A/N: Bumping this up to M. Read to find out why. Specifics will be at the bottom so as not to spoil.

PS: Sorry for the late update, I had my appendix taken out.

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* * *

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**Campaign: Mad Science**

**Chapter 3: Grim Repose**

Ashley, being the most eager to get a break, was the first to reach the safe room door. He opened it wide and glanced inside. It was devoid of life, both a boon and a curse, and had a few mattresses, pillows, blankets, and cardboard boxes filled with who knows what. The biker quickly stepped inside, removed his backpack, let it fall down, and quickly claimed the largest mattress for himself. He never bothered with a blanket, but he did seize a pillow for his head.

"Right. You guys have fun, I'm nappin'." Said the currently grumpy charger.

Parrot hopped off Matt's shoulder and walked into the room. She looked around a moment before she began to sniff the air. "Hey, what's that smell? Smells nice…"

Matt and Rags took a sniff in the air, and they both caught a whiff of it. The smoker didn't recognize it, but the hunter did. Together, they went on a search for the strange scent, looking behind boxes and behind mattresses. Eventually, the little witch found the source of the smell in the trash.

"Ewww! This's not nice at all!" She threw her findings on the floor, showing to the others that it was a bandage covered in dried blood.

"I knew it…" Matt said.

"Knew what?" Asked Rags as he took another puff.

"I smelled that same thing before, back with the survivors. My nose is better than you guys', so I smelled it off of them. They smelled like that, like that clot-"

"If there's survivors or whatever nearby, screw 'em! I'm tired." Ashley interrupted, rolling over on the bed, trying to ignore the rest of them.

"-Cloth. _Sadly,_ the blood on that cloth smells a lot staler than the survivors did. It could have days since that was used. But, I guess this explains how everything knew where those guys were…"

"That… Is just plain unnerving. Might be part of the zombie package, but… finding living blood to smell nice? That's just downright creepy." Rags said, shuddering slightly.

Meanwhile, Parrot had picked up the cloth again, tongue sticking out in disgust, nose being pinched by her free hand, and finally deposited the offending cloth in the trash bin. Smacking her hands together to get the imaginary dust off, claws banging together as she did so, she found herself a nice pillow to sit on, and began to munch down on the sugar cubes she had in her coat pocket.

"I think we should just handle this calmly. We'll just wait here and… hopefully in time, we'll figure out more of this." The hunter said, trying to make sense of everything and keep the group together.

"Alright… for now, I guess… I guess I'll just be compliant. I just want some damn answers, and to find some peace." Rags said, letting a long sigh and taking a large drag from his smoke.

"Good. Hopefully we'll all get what we want," He turned to the little witch as she ate happily, "and it seems like one of us has already gotten what we want." He finished with a smile.

Rags looked at the girl and smiled to her as well. She always seemed to have a knack for bringing smiles to their faces, even in the darkest of times.

The hunter had begun rooting through the various boxes, seeing if there was anything useful. He found bits of dried and canned foods, a small amount of ammunition, mostly for pistols and a gun they didn't have. He horded what he could, so that they could share it after they slept, and then went on to continue his search for anything of use.

Ashley continued to lie on his side, tuning out the rest of them, and closed his eyes. He was tired, he knew it. His body was exhausted. By all means, he should be ready to fall asleep any second now, but he just couldn't seem to reach that last step between sleep and awareness. He began to ponder more and more on it, trying to figure out how to rest his new, mutated body. His answer cut off his thoughts as he dipped from consciousness and into a deep, dreamless sleep in the span of an instant.

The other soon followed him, Rags after finishing his smoke and barring the large steel door, Parrot after getting her fill of sugar and removing her raincoat, and Matt after locating some earplugs for his sensitive ears.

For the hours following, the safe room had become as silent as the dead.

* * *

Ashley was the first to wake up, if one can call it that. He took a glance outside through the bars in the door from where he laid down. It was nearing dawn when they first went in, and now it looked bright outside. He figured he'd been asleep for at least a couple of hours. Sighing, he sat up in bed and rubbed his head. To his surprise, he felt incredibly energized, as if the events that happened during the night hadn't even occurred. He gave himself a small smile and looked around to the others.

The others seemed to be fast asleep and dead to the world. He chuckled at just how accurate that statement might be.

Thinking he ought to get an early start, he made for his backpack and began to sift through its contents. Butcher knives a plenty, zip-ties, and a spare MP5. The gears in his head began to turn as he gave a small grin.

* * *

An hour later, the others were still asleep, unmoving, and under the notice of the biker as he worked. He had taken the four guns they'd been using most and made some modifications. To the guns that he, Matt, and Rags were using, he used all of the two-dozen zip-ties to attach a knife to each weapon. His pistol had one under the front and the other two had them attached underneath the stock.

After completing his work, he had started trying to fix Parrot's gun. While she got lucky with her shot, she broke her trigger in the process. Those claws of hers were definitely sharper than a razor and would most certainly get in the way of pulling triggers in the future. So, he had come up with a special solution. He bent the metal as necessary with the impressive strength of his right arm, even fusing the smaller bits together, and eventually found a way to make it work.

The biker had fixed a small bar of metal, courtesy of the bedsprings he pilfered form his mattress, to the trigger mechanism. Theoretically, all Parrot would have to do now is hold and aim with one hand, and pull the trigger bar with the other using her palm. He thought of how to give this a good testing and his eyes wandered the room. He looked around the room, then focused on Matt's little stash of ammo and food, and then to the little witch.

He smirked a little and stood as an idea popped into his mind. He walked over to the sleeping Parrot and began to shake her awake, "Hey, wake up." He said, hoping the others didn't notice.

The little girl stirred and mumbled a bit and then as suddenly as she had fallen unconscious, she was now fully awake. She blinked a bit and looked up to Ashley, "Oh! G'morning, Ashley!"

"Shh… Gotta be quiet, the others are sleeping." The biker said, bringing a large finger to his lips.

The little witch covered her mouth with both clawed hands and then looked to the other two sleeping figures. She mimicked Ashley's motion with a claw, "Shh…"

The charger nodded and smiled, "C'mon," he whispered, "I'm going to take you out for some target practice."

"Target practice?" She asked curiously, tilting her head.

"You'll see. Come on. Err… want up?" He asked her, holding out his large arm for her.

"Ooo! I haven't been up _that _high before!" She squealed quietly and was about to step onto Ashley's hand when she remembered something, "Oh! Can't forget my shoes and coat."

She grabbed her coat and quickly donned it along with her small shoes, "All ready." She stepped onto the biker's outstretched giant hand.

After placing her one his shoulder, Ashley went over to Matt's pile and picked out a clip of pistol ammo, "This'll do."

Humming happily, Parrot rode on the charger's shoulder, excited about what this target practice was going to entail. With her on his shoulder, the charger unbarred the door, the one opposite to the one they used last night, and walked outside to the new area. It was a bright and beautiful day, if you could ignore the zombies out and about and the wanton destruction of crashed cars and smoking buildings.

The biker walked a good two-hundred yards from the safe room and found a nice patch of zombies in a rural basketball court surrounded by a chain link fence. "Alright, rides over. Off with you." He said, chuckling lightly at the girl's protests as she was picked up and put down on the ground.

"Heeeey! I liked it up there!" Parrot whined aloud, pouting.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, we're here. Time for target practice." He said as he reached for the gun in his pocket that he modified for Parrot.

The little girl gasped lightly as all the pieces fell into place in her little mind, "You fixed my gun! And… oh…" She said oddly before reaching out and taking the instrument of death.

"Matt found some extra ammo, and while you got lucky with that Tank thing, there ain't a kid on earth that's a good shot."

"But… but… These guys aren't being mean to us like the other ones though!"

"I know. Which makes them perfect targets." She smiled a moment, and then frowned when he saw the little girl's pouting face. He sighed and spoke again, "Alright, look at it this way. Each and every one of those guys are a big ball of mean waiting to happen. They ignore us cause we're like them. But, if a normal, nice person goes near them, they'll attack. And watch this."

Making sure he had the little girl's attention, he walked over to one of the common infected; a man in a business suit leaning up against a wall, looking at the sky. He brought his hand to his mouth and coughed into it, "Excuse me, sir?"

The zombie didn't move or make a noise.

"See? No response. But…" He said as Parrot nodded. He then reached out and touched the zombie's shoulder, a pet peeve of these things, as he discovered with that fat zombie a while back. The zombie looked to him dumbly for a moment, and then snarled and began pounding on his chest with all its might.

While many zombies posed a problem for his tough skin, a single infected was pathetic before the large biker, "They seem to try and fight anything that touches them. No matter what, these guys are dangerous. Ya saw what they did to Matt that one time. We're special, these guys ain't. These ones have been dead for a long time now, and turned into mindless killing machines. At least, from what I've seen."

Fed up with the annoyance, Ashley proceeded to grab the zombie pounding him on the chest and hurled it across the street and into an alley. It landed behind a dumpster and was never seen again, "This thing is stronger than I thought…" He said as he looked to his right arm.

Parrot watched on in understanding. From her friend's demonstration, she found that the zombies were all mean, all the time. They were just waiting for a chance to be bad. If she didn't learn how to stop them now, they could end up hurting her or her friends. With a snap decision of child-like simplicity, she decided she would learn how to fight these things properly, even if they weren't being bad right this moment. She took the gun in hand, and asked, "How do I use it right?"

The biker smiled to the little girl, "That's the spirit. Alright, you hold it like this in your left hand, like me." He demonstrated by pulling out his own pistol with his small left hand, "Now, cause you got them claws, you have to hold it with mostly your palm and the non-claw parts of your fingers, like this." He said before holding the gun with his fingers straight out so the tips didn't touch the metal, only the parts below the finger and thumb tips.

The little witch girl fumbled with it a bit, but eventually managed to mimic Ashley's hold on the gun and sure enough, her claws weren't touching the gun. It felt awkward to hold, but she figured she'd get used to it, "Ok, what now?"

"Well, see that metal bar?" He waited until the girl looked and nodded before continuing, "Grab onto that with yer right palm and fingers, like you're doing with yer left hand." He waited again for Parrot to fulfil his instructions. He didn't have to wait long as she'd learned quickly with her other hand. Her claws just protruded, one up and four down, as she gripped the little bar, "Alright, now you just gotta point, brace yourself, and pull the handle towards you."

"Brace myself?"

"Yeah, you know when you shot last time, it had a lil' kick, right?"

"Un-huh, I remember. It scared me."

"Well, bracing yourself means holding on hard and getting ready for that kick."

"Oh, okay." She said before concentrating on her arms and hands, holding the gun tightly in preparation to shoot, "Okay, what next?"

"Now, you point, pull, and shoot. The two best places are the chest, and the head. Head's smaller, but softer. Chest is bigger, but it might not do as much damage. Now, uh…" He looked around a moment, and spotted a girl zombie leaning face first on the chain link fence, "Ah, that one over there," he said as he pointed, "that one's perfect. Remember what I said now."

Parrot gulped hard and nodded her head. She started walking towards the unsuspecting zombie, but Ashley called out to her when she was about twenty feet away, "Alright, that's close enough, gotta practice from some distance."

The little girl nodded and then looked to the zombie. She raised her large weapon, large compared to her, and pointed it at the infected… thing. It felt easier for her if she thought of them as things just waiting to hurt her, instead of what they used to be. She brought up her gun and pointed at her target.

"Look down the length of the gun with one eye, and line it up to where you want the bullet to go." Came the biker's instructions.

The witch gathered her strength, looked down the length of the gun, and aimed at the zombie. She pulled the custom trigger.

The gun fired off. Parrot barely felt the kickback this time, now that she was ready for it, and her witch strength helped too. The bullet soared forward and imbedded itself into the zombie's shoulder. No one but herself and Ashley seemed to have heard the gunshot, as everything around them remained still, save the infected that was now thrashing about.

"Not good enough, gotta hit the head or closer to the centre of the chest. Watch out now that it doesn't charge you."

After recovering from the little shock she had over the first shot, she noticed that the zombie was slowly turning its attention towards her. It let out a small snarl, ready to attack, but it was drowned out by a second shot that planted into the infected's neck, causing it to drop dead on the ground.

"Whoa…" Parrot stared on in awe of what she had just done. She killed a zombie, all by herself. She used a gun and didn't break it. A sense of accomplishment welled up inside of her, and swelled more after she realized how she felt. She felt useful. Before, she would always have to run and hide or break an annoying alarm. She could fight now, in however small a quantity, and could help protect her friends.

"Not bad. Two shots is good. Now let's see if you can nail one in one." The biker smiled to the girl, pleased with her work.

The little witch nodded and found another target. This time it had taken her three shots, due to its flailing about after the first glancing shot, and Ashley instructed her to aim more carefully. The third time she managed to catch a zombie in the head, downing it in one shot. She hopped up and down in excitement, and Ashley nodded in approval.

"Alright. You should have nine bullets left. Keep practicing on your aim until you run out, alright?"

Parrot nodded happily, a big smile on her face. She went back to the task of practicing her aim. Ashley was surprised at how well she could handle the kickback, but knew she had a long ways to go to get over her initial jumpiness when the gun fired, as well as noting that her aim needed work. The girl proceeded to down four more zombies between eight rounds, downing one in one, two in two, and one in three shots. She was progressing nicely until she got to the last zombie. She let loose her last bullet, hitting it square in the chest and causing it to flail about. However, she had forgotten to count her shots, and heard nothing but a click as she attempted to shoot the pissed off zombie.

"Uh oh… Ashleee! Help!" The little witch cried out in fright.

The charger just grunted and imposed himself between the zombie and his temporary student. With his big arm, he grabbed the infected before it stopped flailing and held it tight. He was going to simply crush it, but then an idea of his came to mind.

"Hey, Parrot. You know how me and the other guys have weapons to fight that aren't guns, right? Matt's got his nightstick, Rags his butcher's knife, and me my helicopter blade." He waiting until the girl nodded before continuing, "Well, you don't got one, and honestly, you don't need one."

"Huh? Why not? I only got enough gun to shoot… uh… two… four…" She said as she counted the bodies of the zombies she shot, "Six bad guys. What if I run out?"

"Look at your hands and wiggles your fingers." Ashley deadpanned.

She gave him a curious look, but did as she was told. She brought up her clawed hands and wiggled her fingers, and in her turn, her claws wiggled with them. A memory surfaced, from when she first met Matt and had threatened to scratch him, and she got what Ashley meant.

"Oh… My scratching, huh?" It didn't take her long to figure out that if she can cut aluminium pipes, she could easily dice up a squishy zombie. She didn't know how she felt about that.

"There you go. Yeah, you got them claws and I've seen what you can do with them. You wanna try using them on this one? I'll push 'im at you and you can chop him one."

The little witch looked reluctant at first, but she wanted to give it a try if it meant she could help fight more. She nodded to Ashley, who nodded back before pushing the infected her way.

He kept a close eye on things, just to make sure she was going to be alright. He regretted the fact that he was doing this, teaching a little kid how to shoot a gun and kill something, but he knew it had to happen. In this world that they were in now, if you didn't know how to defend yourself, you would die. He almost did when he was alone against the horde, which was the main reason he was currently following along with the others. He passed along what he knew to them so that they could not only defend themselves better, but defend him as well. Out of his three companions, he wanted to teach Parrot the most, even if he did regret it. She was young, thrust into a dangerous world and changed, possibly forever. If she didn't learn fast, she'd be the first to go if any of them did, and he didn't want that to happen.

Parrot was nervous. She didn't really know what to do. Didn't know how to strike. Didn't know which hand to use. She didn't know if it was better to stab, to slash, or a mix of both. With the infected having been pushed towards her, it began to stumble, and looked like it would fall before it stopped. A memory flashed in her mind for a moment, a memory of the crazy lady that looked like her that she accidentally made mad. She remembered the swipe it took as it was trying to claw them both to death. By the time her thoughts were finished, the infected was upon her. She gave a little shriek, one that no normal human being could make, and slashed forward, cutting the zombie from its collarbone to its hip. The infected fell dead, but not before leaving a few stains of blood on her raincoat, and covered her hand in the red fluid.

The little girl watched the zombie fall dead and then turned to look at her hand. Her left hand was as clean as it could be, but her right hand now had the blood of the thing she'd slain. It didn't feel right. It didn't look right. It didn't smell right. She felt a deep duress wash over her as she started at her natural weapon, she knew it wasn't right, she wish she hadn't done it. Her breathing began to quicken and tears formed in her eyes, she wanted it gone.

"Get it off!" She cried out, flailing her bloodied hand, sending flecks of the red essence on the ground. "Get it off get it off get it off!" She cried louder, her voice starting to wrack with sobs.

Ashley looked to the girl, slightly shocked, as she began to cry and flail her hand wildly. He hadn't expected her to react this way, especially after what he saw her do after Matt went down. Then he remembered how she passed out after her assault and it dawned on him that she might not have even remembered she did it. She never made mention of it, so it did make sense to him. He felt a surge of guilt as he saw tears rolling down the girl's cheeks, past her quivering lip that let looses noises no child could normally make.

"Here, it's alright, I'll get it off. Uh…" He looked around, and behind him, he saw one of the dead zombies that Parrot has shot. He reached over and tore off its shirt, revealing a relatively clean undershirt. He ripped the undershirt off with his right hand and turned to the crying witch, "Just stay still and let me wipe it off, okay?"

She didn't seem to want to listen to him, and continued to flail her arm and cry. Taking action to try to calm her down, he passed the cloth to his left hand and reached out with his right to grab her hand. The first thing he noticed after gently restraining her was that she was really strong, for a little girl anyway. While he could easily overpower the little girl, he felt quite a bit of resistance, though he couldn't accurately gauge how much in comparison to a normal person. After the fleeting thought passed, he started to clean the girl's hand, palm first, then claw by claw. With each wipe Parrot seemed to calm down, and by the end of it, she was merely sniffling lightly.

"Sorry about that…"

"I… I… I don' wanna do that again…" She sniffed out.

He picked her up and tried to give her an awkward hug. She hid her claws under the sleeves of her raincoat and then clung to Ashley's leather jacket. She could feel his chest rumble as he spoke, "Let's head back, alright? And let's keep this to ourselves and try to forget it happened."

Too sombre to really disagree, the little girl just nodded in agreement and sniffed some more.

The biker sighed. "Let's head back." He said again before picking up their guns and making his way back to the safe room.

He hoped the others weren't awake yet, and hoped that Parrot still had some sugar left. That always seemed to cheer her up. Having learned his lesson, he tried to forget the events of the last few hours, and tried to block out the shame he felt for what he did to the poor girl.

* * *

A/N: And here it is. A little later that I had hoped, but a scene I wanted to get out. I cut it a little shorter than it was going to be, but it gives me things to put in next chapter as a bridge between this and the campaign finale in chapter five. Tune in next time for: Mad Science Chapter 4: CEDA Centre.

Being bumped up to M due to descriptions of blood and minor gore, and for a child having and actively shooting a gun. Just in case, you know?


	8. Hiatus

Alright. Sorry folks. I just got fired from my job, lost my almost completed next chapter, and am still dealing with recovery from cancer. I'm sorry, and I hate to say it, but this story is going on hiatus. If anyone wants to know what I had planned, send me a message, and I'll give you the rundown.


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